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A Captain of Industry 




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Katherine. 





A Captain of Industry 


By 

ENOCH JOHNSON 


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THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Boilon, Massachusetts 

1908 



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COPY «- ' 


Copyright, 1908. 

By 

THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO., 
Boston, Massachusetts, 

U. S. A. 


All Rights Reserved. 

Entered at Stationers Hall, 
London. 



CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. The Ellerton Mills 3 

II. Philip Middleton 9 

III. Office and Mill 14 

IV. The House on the Hill and the People in it 19 

V. Philip Middleton Dreams a Dream 28 

VI. What Came of it 33 

VII. “Number 29” 41 

Vni. An Introduction under Peculiar Circum- 
stances 47 

IX. In which Philip Middleton Proposes a 
New Fad for those who have the Time 

for it 60 

X. Containing a Brief Description of 
Two Worthy Persons, and Showing 
Mr. Elridge’s Appreciation of Skilled 
Labor 73 

XI. John Waters 86 

XII. A Meeting of the Union 94 

XIII. Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 124 

XIV. After Two Years 135 

XV. Clouds on the Horizon 147 

XVI The Special Meeting 159 

XVII. Father and Son 175 

XVIII. Partings, Sad and Otherwise. In 

which, also, Mr. Hartland Shears a 
Lamb — so he Thinks 196 


Chapter Page 

XIX. Philip is Remembered in his Father’s 

Will 222 

XX. The Committee of Three 236 

XXI. Which Concerns Itself Wholly with 

the Matter of “Soap,” and Shows 
Why Mr. Middleton must have Lost 
Faith in the Efficacy of that Exceed- 
ingly Useful Article 249 

XXII. The Formal Notice 256 

XXIII. The Strong Arm of the Law 268 

XXIV. The Hearing of the Case 282 

XXV. Lawyer Langdon has a Caller who is 

not a Client 302 

XXVI. The Decision of the Case 317 

XXVII. Sociology 323 

XXVIII. From the Library to the Drawing-room . 344 

XXIX. Mr. Middleton Treads the Wine-press . . 369 

XXX. A Quarrel between Partners, which. 

However, is Settled in a Very Business- 
like Way 378 

XXXI. A Round Peg in a Square Hole 390 

XXXH. The Meeting in the Park, and What 

Followed 407 

XXXIII. The Trial of the Conspirators 432 

XXXIV. The Law of Conspiracy 454 

XXXV. Mr. Hartland Takes a Change of Venue. 465 

XXXVI. Edith’s Letter and its Answer 475 

XXXVII. An Industrial Revival 488 

XXXVIII. Conclusion 497 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Katherine .... 

Frontispiece 



PAGE 

“Well if it isn’t Phil Middleton!’ 


53 

“Traitor !” he cried 

• 

185 

“Go, then! Go!” 

• 

194 

“Do take a more comfortable chair, 
Mr. Langdon.”, 

353 

“To the mills! To the mills!” 


428 

There he lay on the floor. 

• 

474 

He threw the paper into the fire 


484 



A Captain of Industry 

CHAPTER I 

The Ellerton Mills 

Mr. Edward Middleton, president of the 
Ellerton Iron & Steel Works, large, portly 
and florid, was seated at his desk in his 
private office at the close of an afternoon 
in the month of May, 18 — , looking over a 
balance-sheet which had been prepared for 
him by the secretary of the company. The 
information conveyed by this balance-sheet 
was evidently of an agreeable nature, for 
Mr. Middleton smiled from time to time as 
he scanned it. His knowledge of the great 
increase in the company’s business had, of 
course, prepared him for a favorable showing 
from the books; but it was gratifying to have 
the general estimates he had made approved 
and reinforced by the greater definiteness of 
the secretary’s figures. 

Indeed, the score of years or so which 
measured the life of this flourishing corpora- 
tion had brought to it a constantly increasing 
volume of business. The last six years of 
this period, especially, had been marked by 

3 


A Captain of Industry 


a great industrial activity throughout the 
country, and by an unprecedented increase in 
railroad extension, which had created a cor- 
responding demand for steel rails, bridge, 
and other structural material which made up 
the output of the Ellerton Mills. This grow- 
ing business was followed, natura" by an 



and 


enlargement of the company’s 


payroll; so that now the works covered an 
area of ten acres of ground and gave employ- 
ment to about a thousand men. The huge 
chimneys belching smoke and flame by day 
and night and the long lines of workmen 
tramping to and from the mills with their 
swinging dinner-pails were impressive sights. 
They gave, too, those infallible indications of 
prosperity to which our politicians have 
always delighted to point. 

Prosperity, measured by the usual standards 
— expansion in area of building and output 
of product, with consequent increase in divi- 
dends — had certainly come to this great 
industry of which Mr. Middleton was the 
head. 

The mills were located a half mile from 
the business center of Ellerton, a county- 
seat in one of the Middle Western States. 
Their growth from small beginnings to their 


4 


The Ellerton Mills 


present ample proportions had been most 
gratifying to the citizens of that municipality, 
who took a pardonable pride in an institution 
that so well advertised their city. The city 
had, in fact, grown with the mills, and was 
largely indebted to them for whatever im- 
portance it had acquired in the business 
world. 

The mills constituted the chief attraction 
in Ellerton, and strangers in the city were 
invariably taken out to see them. The Eller- 
ton Argus might well have had stereotyped 
a certain passage which appeared with unvary- 
ing regularity in its local columns whenever 
the advent of strangers was noted. Such 
strangers always ‘‘visited the rolling mills and 
other places of interest.” The editor of the 
Argus might have been embarrassed had he 
been called upon to state what other places 
of interest there were in Ellerton; for it would 
have required somewhat of the sharp-sighted- 
ness of that iournal’s namesake to have found 
any. 

The mills, certainly, were worth seeing, 
even if they were not worth going very far to 
see. A stranger in the city with a little time 
on his hands might have passed it interestedly 
and perhaps not unprofitably in a visit to 

5 


A Captain of Industry 

this thriving institution. He would have 
found the usual quiet of the town streets 
sharply contrasted in the strenuous work 
of the bare-breasted and perspiring iron- 
workers, who, as they hurried hither and 
thither over the steel-plated floors in their 
varied assignments of toil, seemed to feel 
resting rather heavily upon them the weight 
of the primal curse. In fact, the mills well 
exemplified the modern industrial system, 
under which, by a sort of left-handed inter- 
pretation of the biblical penalty, a large 
and an increasing number of the human 
family, while eating bread regularly enough, 
are doing their sweating vicariously. 

Certain it is that anyone who held a good- 
sized block of stock in the Ellerton Rolling 
Mills at the time this history opens could 
have comfortably housed, clothed and fed 
himself without the necessity of undergoing 
any vulgar sweat-baths. The stockholders 
at this time were not many. When the 
company was organized and the enterprise 
was in the nature of an experiment, stock 
subscriptions were solicited. The citizens of 
Ellerton subscribed liberally, and the stock 
became well distributed among them. When, 
however, the success of the venture became 

6 


The Ellerton Mills 


assured the leaders in the enterprise sub- 
jected the bulk of the stockholders to that 
interesting eliminating process known as 
“freeze out,” and possessed themselves of 
most of the stock. Of course, the victims of 
the freezing-out process in Ellerton had the 
satisfaction of knowing that they had helped 
to establish an important industry in the 
city. And had any one of these, as he 
pocketed his small gains — or losses — ex- 
pressed a doubt as to this being a suflScient 
recompense he would, without a doubt, have 
been deemed by the beneficiaries of the 
aforesaid process as lamentably wanting in 
civic spirit and loyalty. 

The company was now, therefore, if not 
in a strictly legal sense, certainly in a very 
practical sense, a close corporation, and 
Mr. Middleton found himself the owner of 
a majority of the stock, with all the power 
and emoluments which such ownership con- 
ferred. It was quite natural, therefore, that 
he should rise from the examination of the 
secretary’s balance-sheet on the afternoon in 
question with that feeling of satisfaction 
and self-gratulation which usually comes to 
those who see about them the multiplying 
signs of material welfare. 

7 


A Captain of Industry 

Glancing out of the window he saw his 
carriage draw up in the roadway which 
skirted the small stretch of ground in front 
of the oflSce building. Closing his desk he 
put on his hat and stepped into an adjoining 
room where a young man was engaged with 
the elderly secretary of the company over 
some routine work. Addressing the young 
man he said : 

“Come on, Phil, it’s time to quit. The 
carriage is waiting.” 

“I think I’ll walk to-night, father,” said 
the young man, “I feel like stretching my- 

“Well, if you don’t start soon you’ll have 
to stretch yourself to get home in time for 
dinner. Don’t be late.” 

Saying which, Mr. Middleton waved a 
good-night to the secretary, walked out to 
the carriage, and telling the coachman that 
Philip was not coming, entered and was 
whirled homeward. 


8 


CHAPTER II 
Philip Middleton 

Philip Middleton did at once proceed to 
stretch himself; but not in a way to lessen 
the distance from the office to his home. 
The stretching came in the shape of a pro- 
tracted yawn. Relaxing lazily from this 
physical exertion he sank down in his chair 
with a sigh, and with hands thrust deep in 
his trousers pockets and feet thrown forward, 
he fell into a brown study. The secretary’s 
“good-night” elicited from him but a mechan- 
ical response, and he still sat buried in his 
thoughts until some time after the general 
quiet about him gave evidence that the 
numerous clerks employed by the company 
had left the building. 

Now, what was the subject of these engross- 
ing thoughts .5^ True, it was springtime, and 
a guess might have been hazarded that the 
young man’s fancy was disporting itself in 
that realm of sentiment to which the poet 
has dedicated the vernal season. But if you 
had staked your penny upon that hypothesis 

9 


A Captain of Industry 

in expectation of being entertained with a 
page or two from Gupid’s diary, you would 
nave been disappointed. This is a truthful 
history, and in its adherence to facts it must 
at times descend to the commonplace. At 
the risk, therefore, of chilling the interest of 
the sentimental reader at the very outset of 
this narrative, it must be stated that Philip 
w’as not in love. He was, in fact, very much 
out of love with everything and everybody, 
himself included. 

Three years had passed since young Middle- 
ton had exchanged the free and full life 
which is the privilege of a son of w^ealth for 
the cramped and confining one of the oflSce. 
“Play days are over, my boy, work begins,” 
his father had said to him the fall following 
the completion of his college course. And 
straightway he became one of the human 
cogs in the huge wheel that turned the Eller- 
ton Mills. As assistant to the company’s 
secretary he had been spending that novitiate 
in the business which was to prepare him for 
responsibilities in the management of the 
company comporting with his relationship to 
its president, and which the latter by reason 
of his control of the corporation was in a 
position to confer upon him. 

10 


Philip Middleton 

Philip had entered upon his duties cheer- 
fully, even with enthusiasm, for he was not 
of the number of those who look upon 
prospective wealth as affording immunity 
from obligation to do their work in the 
world. And in the Ellerton steel mills he 
saw open before him an honorable and suc- 
cessful business career. 

He was destined soon to realize, however, 
the full import of his father’s words, and how 
sharply drawn was the line of demarcation 
between work and play. An ardent lover 
of out-of-door life and its invigorating sports 
which give zest to intellectual work, he had, 
previous to his entry into business, succeeded 
m maintaining that happy balance, mens sana 
in corpore sano, which had kept him uni- 
formly up to the level of good feeling. 

The transition from a condition in which 
the faculties of body and mind were in full 
play to one in which his muscles seemed in 
danger of atrophy through lack of accustomed 
exercise was to his buoyant nature like a 
cold plunge without its pleasurable reaction. 
Too conscientious to shirk his duties he had 
submitted without grumbling to the exactions 
of his position; but he had often wondered 
why the demands of business should require 

11 


A Captain of Industry 

the sacrifice of normal, healthful living. What 
was considered a young man’s commence- 
ment in life — his entry into business — was, 
as a matter of fact, in most cases the end of 
right living. In office and business-house a 
confining davery to the desk and counter was 
begetting a race of physical manikins. On 
the other hand, in mill and mine and factory 
— in every field of manual labor — the inces- 
sant toil of the hand left little leisure for 
culture of the mind, producing a surplus of 
brawn, but leaving the workers little more 
than intellectual dwarfs. Toilers with hand 
and brain seemed alike the victims of an 
arrested development. Work, too, appeared 
to be an end m itself and not a means to 
ulterior and higher things. The ordinary 
amenities of social life seemed foreign to the 
world of trade. “It isn’t business’^ was an 
expression common enough; and that a thing 
wasn’t business was enough to discredit it 
no matter what sanction it might have in 
personal benefit or altruistic motive. Strange, 
indeed, if the dedication of the powers of 
body and mind to a grasping, self-seeking 
and sordid commercialism, all too apparent 
everywhere, did not leave an impress of 
some salient characteristics. It has made of 

12 


Philip Middleton 


America a nation of money-makers and — 



>tics. 


So thought Philip Middleton, and such were 
his cogitations as he sat lost in gloomy abstrac- 
tion. 

Rousing himself and closing his desk with 
what to sensitive ears might have sounded 
not many degrees removed from a slam, he 
strode from the office repeating those lines 
from Lamb — ^that charming apologist for 
the life inoperative — which were so suited 
to his present mood : 

“ Who first invented work, and bound the free 

And holiday-rejoicing spirit down 

To that dry drudgery at the desk’s dead wood ?” 


13 


CHAPTER III 


Office and Mill 

As Philip left the ofiice building the work- 
men composing the day shift were stream- 
ing out from the mills. He stopped to look 
at them. They were going at that quick 
step so noticeable in factory and mill hands, 
as if unable to cast off the habit of haste 
which the demands of their work imposed 
upon them. To Philip life in the mills was 
more or less of a sealed book. True, the 
office building was adjacent to the mills. 
But it might as well have been in the next 
county so far as any communion between 
office force and mill workers was concerned. 

An observant traveler on the lower Mis- 
sissippi will have noticed that after the 
continence of that river and the Missouri 
the waters of the two great rivers flow south- 
ward for some distance side by side without 
mingling, the one stream clear and limpid, 
the other dark, turbid and repellent. So the 
two human streams from office and mill 
flowed side by side, in contact but without 

14 


Office and Mill 

fraternal mingling, kept apart by a sense of 
separateness as rigid as ever divided two 
Indian castes. 

When, therefore, Philip, obeying an impulse 
of mingled curiosity and interest, fell in with 
a workman whose way seemed to lie in the 
direction of his own, the latter looked up with 
surprise and touched his cap deferentially. 

“I guess you’re glad this is Saturday 
night, aren’t you.^^” said Philip. 

“Yes, I am,” replied the man, “and to- 
morrow I’ll be sorry that the next day is 
Monday.” 

“Then you don’t get sufficiently rested on 
Sunday.^” 

“Well, we mill men are pretty much like 
machines, you know. When a machine is 
stopped after running a long while the bear- 
ings need to be well oiled or there’ll be a good 
deal of creaking and squeaking when it’s 
started up again.” 

“Your Sundays, then, do not sufficiently 
oil the bearings,” said Philip smiling. 

“No, for they don’t come often enough. 
We need three Sundays — two to be split up 
among the other days of the week.” 

“Your hours are long.?” 

“From six to six, sir, with short stops 

15 


A Captain of Industry 

between the furnaces/’ 

“Between the furnaces?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m a roller, sir; and when 
we’ve put the bars from one furnace through 
the rolls we wait till the heaters have another 
furnace ready/’ 

“Twelve hours is certainly a long pull. 
You could well spare about three hours of 
your work, and it would do some of us in the 
office a great deal of good if we had that 
much of it.” 

“ Perhaps it would, but I guess you wouldn’t 
be falling over yourselves in your hurry to 
get at it if you had the chance,” said the 
man with a laugh. 

“ Probably not,” replied Philip. “ We often 
forego what would be of benefit to us out of 
regard for appearances.” 

“Yes, people generally don’t look much 
further than the outside of things.” 

“Further than the outside of things — 
no,” echoed Philip meditatively. 

Looking more closely now at the man 
beside him Philip saw that he was apparently 
of middle age, with a large, well-knit frame 
that might have been commanding but for 
a slight stoop of the shoulders, due, doubtless, 
to excessive heavy lifting and carrying. His 
16 


Office and Mill 


cap was pushed back on his head revealing 
a high forehead which received some accentua- 
tion from a slight baldness. Deep-set blue 
eyes looked out kindly from under beetling 
brows. A prominent nose and large mouth 
called for a chin of like liberal proportions, 
but this was covered by a close-cropped 
beard which was plentifully sprinkled with 
gray. There should have been a fullness of 
the face to match this largeness of the features. 
The face, however, looked pinched and drawn, 
betokening all too plainly the tutelage of the 
taskmaster and the deadening influence of 
repression. 

when Philip, reflecting how much books 
were a part of his own life, asked about his 
reading, the man laughed cynically. 

“ Oh, the company doesn’t think that’s 
good for us. At any rate, no allowance is 
made for it. After we’ve been jerking and 
pounding red-hot iron for twelve hours at 
the mills we don’t feel much like taking up 
books when we get home.” 

At this point their ways diverged. Philip 
turned and looked at the man sympathetically. 

“Your name.?” 

“Waters, sir — John Waters,” he replied, 
surprised that he should be asked, 

17 


A Captain of Industry 

“Middleton is mine.” 

“Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Middleton; 
but I don’t know why you’ve been walking 
and talking with me. You haven’t been 
trying to trap me into saying things, have 
you giving Philip a quick, searching look. 

“Yes, I have,” said Philip with a quizzical 
look; “and you’d better look to your job.” 

Waters caught a glimpse of the open, 
generous, laughing face as it turned from him, 
and felt reassured. 

So they separated: Waters to add spice to 
the commonplaces of the supper table bv 
dilating on the unheard-of episode of a mill 
man’s walk and talk with the president’s son; 
and Philip to reach home and meet the 
reproving looks that are usually visited upon 
one who is guilty of that most heinous offense 
in these days of good living — coming late 
for dinner. 


18 


CHAPTER IV 


The House on the Hill and 
THE People in it 

The Middleton mansion was well in evi- 
dence on a bird’s-eye view of Ellerton. It 
was seated on the brow of a hill overlooking 
the town, and this vantage-ground was sup- 
plemented by the largeness of plan on which 
it was constructed. A less ambitious struc- 
ture would have better suited the natural 
elevation and blended more harmoniously 
with the modest proportions of the other 
town houses. But if aesthetic fitness had not 
been consulted in the building, that feeling 
which finds satisfaction in mere bigness had 
been abundantly gratified. For there the 
house stood, a huge pile of brick and stone 
that might have reflected credit upon a 
metropolis, but gave to a city of less than ten 
thousand inhabitants somewhat the appear- 
ance of top-heaviness. 

Mr. Middleton did not need so large a 
house, for his family was small and the con- 
tingency of its increase suflSciently remote 

19 


A Captain of Industry 

to relieve him of any obligation on that score. 
Perhaps he was afraid that his executors 
might not fitly link him with coming genera- 
tions through the medium of stone and 
marble, and so went into the monument 
business on his own account. For, as in 
many of our cemeteries towering shafts of 
granite give to those who rest beneath them 
a sort of posthumous fame, even though they 
created little stir when in their mortal bodies, 
so, often, a heaven-kissing edifice will blazon 
abroad the name of its owner, although the 
halo of influence radiating from his own 
proper person is neither so marked nor so 
far-reaching as to call forth the digito mon- 
strari of an admiring populace. 

This graveyard analogy may not be inapt 
in another particular. For if diligent search 
should be made by the curious among the 
numerous closets of many ostentatious palaces, 
a varied assortment of skeletons would doubt- 
less reward the search. 

Some of the events of this history might 
be dragged from their natural sequence if 
a tour of inspection were to be made at this 
time into the hidden recesses of the Middleton 
mansion to see if it harbored any of the 
gruesome objects just mentioned. Let the 

20 


The House on the Hill 


house stand for the present looking down 
in unclouded splendor upon the town houses 
below, which in their comparative littleness 
seemed to be kowtowing to their imperial 
sovereign on the heights. 

It can hardly be doubted that if the editor 
of the Ellerton Argus had been put to it he 
would have named the house on the hill as 
one of the “other places of interest” in 
Ellerton. And an exterior view alone might 
have justified this. As to the interior of the 
house, much in little may be given by way 
of description if a remark be quoted which 
was not infrequently on the lips of certain 
young men about town when the house hap- 
pened to be the subject of discussion, namely: 
^‘It’s mighty fine inside.” It is suspected, 
however, that in saying this the aforesaid 
young men desired not so much to convey 
information as to get the benefit of the neces- 
sary inference that they had the entree of 
that great house. For its social circle was 
exclusive, if not always select. 

And now as to the occupants of this palace 
— ^those who dignified it by calling it “home.” 
First of all, there was Mrs. Middleton the 
Second. Mrs. Middleton the First had 
reigned but one short year over Mr. Middle- 

21 


A Captain of Industry 

ton’s household, and had then abdicated 
after presenting him with a son and heir. 
Her early death was a blow from which 
Mr. Middleton was slow to recover, for it 
had been a love marriage, neither party 
being dowered with anything more than a 
heart-grappling affection for the other, but 
both old-fashioned enough to consider this 
sufficient capital with which to begin wedded 
life. Mr. Middleton’s second matrimonial 
venture was more a la mode. In the happily 
exact phrase of the world, he “ married 
money. ’ Not that Mrs. Middleton was with- 
out some of those charms of her sex which 
when properly focused are so effectual in 
the multiplication of benedicts; but Mr. 
Middleton would probably have proved im- 
mune from the infection of such charms 
had they not been considerably enhanced by 
the fact that she was an heiress, and would 
therefore bring some needed capital into 
the matrimonial partnership. This she did; 
and with a liberal base of supplies thus 
established, Mr. Middleton hadp with a mod- 
icum of shrewdness and of business fore- 
sight, waged a notably successful campaign 
in the pursuit of that greatest thing in the 
world — ^the dollar, to which pursuit he had 


The House on the Hill 


now dedicated his energies. His second wife 
gave him every encouragement in this direc- 
tion. She was anxious, indeed, to have him 
forget that he had ever been poor. For 
she held rather close affiliation with that 
spurious aristocracy of. wealth which seems 
willing enough to draw its sustenance from 
what it pleases to call the lower strata of 
humanity, but hedges itself about with facti- 
tious distinctions which bar from its fellow- 
ship the great proletariat upon which it feeds. 
An aristocracy which ostentatiously flares an 
escutcheon emblazoned with the device of the 
dollar-mark, oblivious of the bend sinister 
which crosses it. 

But if Mrs. Middleton’s social sympathies 
were not veiw wide reaching, her influence 
was quite of the positive sort within the 
narrow sphere to which she had restricted 
her interests. As the wife of the richest man 
in Ellerton, and the mistress of its most 
palatial home, she assumed without protest 
the position of leader and dictator m the 
society affairs of the city; and any deliverances 
from the house on the hill touching those 
nice questions, “Who’s Wlio” and “WTiat’s 
What,” were received as ex cathedra. This 
position of leadership, of course, imposed 

23 


A Captain of Industry 

upon Mrs. Middleton certain social obliga- 
tions. And these she discharged to the entire 
satisfaction of that small coterie in Ellerton 
which constituted its fashionable set. Her 
teas, “at homes,” dances, card parties, etc., 
were notable events in the social life of the 
town, and were always quoted by the “smart 
set” when comparisons were made or stand- 
ards were to be established. No society 
function was considered launched under very 
flattering auspices that did not have her 
encouragement and co-operation; and all public 
entertainments for charity — ^those delightful 
affairs where the well-to-do may ease their 
consciences by ministrations to the poor at 
arms’ length — ^found in Mrs, Middleton an 
ever dependable patroness. 

With his wife thus secure in the leadership 
of Ellerton society, and himself first among 
the business men of the city, Mr. Middleton 
should have been a happy man. But happi- 
ness rarely comes to the man whose affections 
are dormant; and anything in the nature of 
sentiment was quite episodical in Mr. Middle- 
ton’s life. It was only when he, fell into a 
reminiscent mood and reverted in thought 
to the great affection of his young manhood 
that he felt the surging of any tender emotions. 


The House on the Hill 

He would then, at times, betray how strong 
a hold that early love still had upon his heart 
by manifestations of affection for the boy 
that had been left him as a pledge of it: 
manifestations that might have been some- 
what disquieting to a woman of a more pene- 
trating mind than his second wife. 

Married life, however, has a wide margin 
for practical duties, in the performance of 
which affection is a more or less negligible 
quantity; and in the discharge of such recip- 
rocal duties Mr. and Mrs. Middleton had 
acquired that marital “modus vivendi” which 
so often serves to mask a loveless union. 

An additional bond between them was a 
daughter, now blossoming into womanhood. 
This daughter came upon the scene at a time 
when Mr. Middleton’s financial star was 
ascendant. A child of the proverbial “sil- 
ver spoon” — “lap of luxury” — “indulgent 
parents,” et cetera, she would readily have 
fallen into the fiction- writers’ category of the 
“spoiled child.” But Edith Middleton was 
not spoiled — not yet. Budding womanhood 
does not less graciously unfold under the 
influence of the refinements, the elegancies 
and the gentle nurture which wealth affords, 
any more than the hillside daisy blooms 

25 


A Captain of Industry 

less fair for the richness of the soil and favor- 
ing sun and air. No; girls are not spoiled 
by being well taken care of, however it may 
be with their brothers. The spoiling does 
sometimes come later, when they become 
matriculates in fashion’s school, and cramp 
and dwarf their lives by a servile conformance 
to its code. No such fate, however, had yet 
befallen Miss Edith, although there was 
danger ahead under the tutelage of a mother 
who was a slave to conventionality and whose 
ideas and ideals were drawn from the fashion- 
able world. 

Edith Middleton did not lack admirers. 
Nor were they all confined to Ellerton. She 
had created quite a sensation the summer 
previous, her first season at the seaside, 
where her beauty and vivacity, coupled with 
great expectations of a material nature, gave 
an unwonted zest to the matrimonial angling 
which is always such a fascinating diversion 
at summer resorts. 

It is needless to say that Mrs. Middleton 
looked upon her daughter’s popularity with 
the utmost complacence. Her ambition for 
Edith stopped with no ordinary marriage. 
She hoped that when the time came for her 
to relinquish her guardianship to another. 


The House on the Hill 

it would be upon the consummation of an 
alliance that should at once make secure a 
high social position for her daughter, and 
effect a corresponding uplift of the entire 
family. True, there were none to dispute 
the social pre-eminence of the Middletons in 
Ellerton. But Mrs. Middleton had dreams 
of conquest which far transcended any pos- 
sible in a provincial town. She had visions 
of high life in a metropolis: a larger theatre 
for the enactment of that fashionable drama 
in which she and her daughter should shine 
resplendent stars. 

Such were Mrs. Middleton’s dreams. But 
Philip Middleton had a dream of a far different 
character, and one that his stepmother would 
have regarded as having all the earmarks of 
a nightmare. 


27 


CHAPTER V 


Philip Middleton Dreams a Dream 

Varied and curious has been the specula- 
tion as to the causes and nature of dreams. 
Soothsayers and wise men are not now, as 
of old, called in to interpret them and make 
known the meaning supposed to be hidden 
in them; and yet, with the remembrance of 
the vividness and vraisemblance of some of 
these visions of the night, are we quite satisfied 
with the lexicographer’s definition that they 
are but a succession of phenomena having no 
external reality to correspond to them ? 

Many people find no difficulty in accepting 
as literal fact the Scriptural stories of divine 
communication through dreams, who yet see 
in dreams nowadays little more than the 
haphazard and inconsequent jangle of brain 
cells. Has, then, the sacred stream of inspira- 
tion been diverted and ceased to flow in such 
channels.?^ Or, has it become dried up al- 
together ? 

Whatever be the real nature of dreams, 
we know some of the conditions under which 

28 


Philip Middleton Dreams a Dream 

they visit us. For instance, if we have had 
an unusual experience during the day which 
has actively occupied our waking thoughts, 
images closely associated with the experience 
are quite likely to be impressed upon our 
sleep. Adepts in spiritism account for this 
by saying that our absorption in thought upon 
the unusual experience has magnetized us 
(sic) and so made us peculiarly susceptible 
to spiritualistic influences, and fit media for 
communications from disembodied intelli- 
gences touching the particular subject in 
mind. Nonsense! Bosh! says our matter- 
of-fact friend. And perhaps it is. Inasmuch, 
however, as science has not spoken the last 
word on the subject of dreams, we may 
enlarge the boundaries of our knowledge by 
giving a tentative ear to any theory that is 
offered to explain them. 

Now, Philip Middleton, not content with 
his deep cogitation at the oflfice and his talk 
later with John Waters, did some further 
thinking along the same line that evening. 
He kept company with his thoughts until 
a late hour, then went to bed, and to sleep, 
and dreamed this dream : He seemed to 
wake and to see standing at his bedside an 
old and venerable man. The dress of the 

29 


A Captain of Industry 

strange visitor was of another time and place, 
for he was loose-robed and girdled. His long 
white hair and beard were quite in keeping 
with his patriarchal garb. His looks, how- 
ever, gave the impression of maturity rather 
than of decline, for there was about him no sign 
or suggestion of decrepitude. The brightness 
of the eye, the clear complexion, the fullness of 
feature, the benign and gracious mien — all 
told of the dominance of that life of the spirit, 
which with advancing years simply forms new 
and differing molds of physical beauty. 

In his left hand he held a large scroll which 
was partly unrolled, and with his right hand 
he appeared to be tracing the inscription upon 
the page. Now he spoke. His words, how- 
ever, were not articulated, for his lips did not 
move. The voice seemed to come as an 
emanation, yet withal, in clear, mellifluent 
and pervasive sound. May mind thus, some 
d^, communicate with mind, thought become 
efiluent, needing not the cumbrous vehicle of 
sense for its transmission 

The words which were borne in upon the 
consciousness of the dreaming sleeper were 
these : 

“Hear this fable, my son: A young tree 
growing in a nobleman’s park conceived a 

30 


Philip Middleton Dreams a Dream 

dislike for the coarse fertilizing soil which 
the park gardener had scattered thick about 
its base. ‘ I will have none of that dirty 
stuff/ said the tree, and turned its roots 
downward to escape contamination. But 
there was that in the gross and uninviting 
soil which the tree needed for its sturdy 
growdh. Besides, the roots gradually con- 
verging instead of diverging, their hold upon 
the ground became less and less secure; and 
one morning after a severe wind-storm during 
the night the gardener making his round in 
the park came upon the tree stretched upon 
the ground uprooted!” 

As the sound of the last word died upon 
the air, the venerable presence evanesced. 

And now the scene of Philip’s dream was 
changed. By one of those sudden transitions 
which are so common to the dreaming state, 
he found himself leaving the office at about 
three o’clock in the afternoon and going into 
the mills. He went to the quarter where 
John Waters was working, took the grappling 
tongs from his hands, which Waters relin- 
quished without any show of surprise, and 
then took his station at the rolls, while Waters 
went to a near-by cupboard, gathered up 
his coat and dinner-pail and left the mills. 

31 


A Captain of Indmiry 

Now, with the help of his companion roller 
he seizes with the tongs the bar of heated 
metal from the “buggy” brought by the 
haulers from the furnace, presents it to the 
rolls, catches it as it is repassed, passes it 
through the second rolls, and so on through 
all the roughing rolls till the bar lengthened 
into a rail is passed on to the finishers. Back 
he goes now to the first station, and on comes 
the rattling buggy with another bar from 
the furnaces, and the roughing process is 
repeated. Occasionally the pliable bar 
becomes bent and catches in the rolls, and 
then he drops his tongs, picks up a sledge and 
pounds the refractory metal into tractable- 
ness. With the pulling, hauling and pound- 
ing the physical strain increases; perspiration 
pours from him; he sees the veins in his 
bared arms distend, the muscles become 
protuberant, and inevitable exhaustion ap- 
proaches. He sways, staggers, slips and falls 
— oh, horrible! — in front of the red-hot bar 
coming through the rolls from the other side! 
The men at the rolls stand aghast. The 
blinding, excoriating mass is upon him! 

And Philip awakes to find the morning 
sun beating into his face from the east window ! 


32 


CHAPTER VI 
What Came of It 

Monday evening Mr. Middleton again rode 
home alone, and Philip went into the mills 
and watched the rollers at their work. John 
Waters’s face paled when he first caught sight 
of Philip. He was plainly agitated as he saw 
him closely noting his every movement, and 
his agitation showed itself in his work. 

“ What’s the matter. Jack asked his 
companion roller. “Are you bashful before 
company 

“I reckon that must be it,” responded 
Waters evasively. 

He felt relieved when the last bar from the 
furnace they were then drawing from was 
put through the rolls, for he then had a 
chance to rest while the heaters were getting 
the next furnace ready. Going over to a 
bench at the side of the mill he sat down and 
wiped the unusually copious perspiration from 
his face. 

Philip went over to him. 

“What sort of a roller do you think I’d 

33 


A Captain of Industry 

make, Waters?” 

Waters started. 

“You might do as well as I did on that 
last round,” he replied, recovering himself. 

“I noticed you were a little unsteady on 
your feet. What was the trouble?” 

“Oh, I had a queer dream last Saturday 
night, and your coming in reminded me of 
it and upset me a bit.” 

“Saturday night!” Philip exclaimed with 
rising curiosity. “ What was it ? ” 

“ 1 dreamt you came in and took my place 
at the rolls. Funny dream, wasn’t it?” 

“More than funny, for I had the same 
dream.” 

“You did? When?” 

“Last Saturday night.” 

Waters passed his hand over his face. 

“I guess it’s owing to the talk we had 
Saturday,” he said, attempting to remove 
from his mind the impression of the uncanny. 

“Quite likely,” said Philip. “How would 
you like to have the dream come true ?” 

Waters looked at Philip incredulously. 

“I’m not joking. Waters. I mean it.” 

“ Well, sir, of course I wouldn’t mind 
getting a lay off; but I don’t see how we’re 
going to arrange it. I can’t afford to lose 

34 


What Came of It 

the time, and you’re not exactly cut out for 
a roller. You wouldn’t like this sort of work.” 

“Oh, yes I would — about three hours a 
day of it. It’ll be better than dyspepsia 
tablets. And three hours less of it every day 
will be a good thing for you. You needn’t 
lose any time, either. I’ll see Mitchell, and 
have it understood that the time I put in is 
to be your time, so that your time-check will 
not be any the smaller. You can break me 
in gradually at the rolls, and when I get 
trained sufficiently to go it alone I’ll come 
in at three o’clock every afternoon and 
relieve you, and you can go home.” 

“All right, sir. I’ll go you, seein’ I can’t 
lose,” said Waters with a laugh. “When do 
you want to begin?” 

“Well, let’s see — this is Monday. I shall 
need a few days to make my arrangements. 
Suppose I come in Thursday afternoon for 
my first lesson?” 

“Very well, sir; but you’ll need different 
clothes from what you’ve got on now for this 
sort of work.” 

“Oh, yes, I know that. That’ll be part 
of my arrangements. I’ll have to add another 
suit to my wardrobe — of a somewhat different 
kind, I imagine, from any that I’ve ever worn.” 

35 


A Captain of Industry 

“A trifle different, yes,” said Waters, smil- 
ingly taking note of young Middleton’s neat- 
fitting, tailor-made attire. 

After some further talk touching the matter 
in contemplation, Philip turned to go, saying 
as a final word: 

“Don’t speak of this matter to anyone 
at present. Waters. The thing will be an 
experiment for a while, and if it fails, why, 
the fewer there are to laugh at me, the better. 
If I become a full-fledged roller, I sha’n’t 
care who knows it.” 

“All right, sir — mum’s the word.” 

Philip now looked up the mill superin- 
tendent. 

Superintendent Mitchell (given name, 
Patrick) was a tall, lank, raw-boned son of 
Erin, who was little indebted to book learning 
for his position. He held it because he 
knew the iron business, and knew it thor- 
oughly. He had spent so much of his life 
in doing things rather than in studying how 
to do them that he had acquired an aptitude 
that approached near to instinct. Like an 
experienced chef who scorns to measure out 
the condiments that he puts into his tooth- 
some delicacies, Mitchell needed no scales 
to tell him the requisite amount of scrap to 

36 


What Came of It 

put with the pig-iron in a puddling furnace 
to produce the best results. He knew little 
about the chemistry of the process of steel 
making; and had he been asked by one of 
those people who always like to throw such 
things into a formula, what percentage of the 
carbon must be released from the pig-iron, 
his face would have assumed an expression 
of blank interrogation. And yet, he knew 
well enough when the decarburizing process 
was complete, and just when to draw the 
puddle-balls from the furnace. He could look 
into a reheating-furnace and tell whether or 
not the piles were ready for the rollers, with- 
out knowing how long they had been heating. 
He could take a turn at the rolls with a 
readiness and dexterity not excelled by any 
roller in the mills; and could roughly, but 
with remarkable approximation to accuracy, 
gauge the output of product from a given 
quantity of raw material. 

This all-round proficiency had been acquired 
by a long apprenticeship in the mills. He 
began as a common workman, at the age of 
eighteen, and had been in turn a hauler, 
heater, puddler, roller, boss-roller, and for 
five years now, mill superintendent. He was 
not a boastful man, but he was aware that 

37 


A Captain of Industry 

he knew something about the rolling-mill 
business, and had been heard to say that 
when he found a man in the mills that knew 
more about the business than he did, he 
would stand aside and let him have his job. 
Inasmuch as the position of mill superin- 
tendent was the best-paid of any in the mills 
it is fair to presume that the idea that any 
one would take up the gage thus thrown 
down was somewhat remote in Mitchell’s 
mind. 

It need hardly be said that such a man was 
given a free hand in the management of all 
matters inside the mills, and in such matters 
received, and would have brooked little inter- 
ference from the office; and had Philip 
Middleton, presuming upon his relationship 
to the official head of the corporation, in- 
structed Mr. Patrick Mitchell to take note of 
the arrangement he had made with Waters, 
he would probably have been sent about his 
business in short order, and would have been 
well laughed at had he made complaint at 
the office on account of such rough treat- 
ment. But Philip had too much tact to 
commit such a blunder. He had the good 
sense to ask the superintendent’s consent to 
such a strange departure from the ordinary 

38 


What Came of It 


routine of the mills. 

No man (or woman, either) is entirely free 
from vanity. Ben Franklin, it will be remem- 
bered, thought it would not be altogether 
absurd if a man were to thank God for his 
vanity among the other comforts of life — a 
comfort, doubtless, because of the pleasure 
derived from an occasional gratification of it. 

Superintendent Mitchell had a measure of 
this supposedly human weakness and was 
gratified by the frank recognition of his 
authority by the president’s son in the request 
which he had preferred. At the same time 
the oddity of the proposal elicited from him 
a good-natured guffaw. 

Ye’re purty fine stuff t’ make a roller of.” 

“Not too fine, I hope,” replied Philip 
smiling. 

“I dunno; you young fellers with pens 
behind yer ears ain’t much at mixin’ with th’ 
likes of us.” 

“That may be the worse for us,” said 
Philip. “I’m willing to take the chances on 
three hours a day of it doing me any harm.” 

“All right. I don’t mind yer tryin’ yer 
hand at it, if ye want to; but ye’ll have to 
hold up yer end, me b’y. Waters is one of 
our best min, an’ if his time’s goin’ on his 

39 


A Captain of Indmtry 

wurk’s got to go on too/’ 

“Of course/’ said Philip, “that’s only 
fair; but I think I can soon learn to do the 
work.” 

With the matter thus satisfactorily arranged, 
Philip left the mills, having enjoined upon 
Mitchell the same silence that he had re- 
quested Waters to maintain while this most 
unusual venture was in its experimental 
stage. 


40 


CHAPTER VII 


“Number 29.” 

Philip had chosen a good time for his 
experiment. It so happened that on Wed- 
nesday of that week his father left for the 
South on one of his periodic trips in the 
interest of the company, and would be away 
from home some ten days. Philip could, 
therefore, go ahead without any protest from 
him against his embarking upon a course 
which, he felt sure, his father would regard 
as in the last degree quixotic. What argu- 
ments he should use to get his father’s consent 
to the continuance of such a course, he did 
not ask himself. 

He now made preparation for Thursday. 
With the help of some suggestions from 
Superintendent Mitchell, he provided himself 
with the clothes, shoes and gloves suitable 
for the mill work. He next appropriated 
to his use a vacant room in the office building 
which admitted of easy access to the mills. 
This room he fitted up as a dressing-room, 
with the necessary accessories, including a 
bath-tub. 


41 


A Captain of Industry 

Thursday afternoon at three o’clock he 
left his desk in the office, repaired to the 
dressing-room and changed his clothes. It 
would have required a view at close range 
for an acquaintance to have recognized him 
as he strode into the mills in his workman’s 
apparel. 

Nor was the change wholly external. He 
experienced a change of feeling, as well. 
Clothes have a certain psychologic influence. 
As the chameleon takes color from the thing 
to which it cleaves, so our minds are myste- 
riously influenced by our bodily vestments. 
Must not the actor be dressed for his part; 
the dectective have his disguises? And this 
not alone to heighten the sense of reality 
with those they desire to impress. Both 
need the inspiration that comes from a good 
make-up in order to effect an adequate merger 
of identity. The beggar and his rags are 
well suited to each other. Put good clothes 
on him and you perforce tie up his suppli- 
catory tongue. If, indeed, the apparel oft 
proclaims the man, it quite as often helps 
to make him. 

Philip Middleton with his change of clothes 
was, in a measure, a changed man. Re- 
leased from the restraints inseparable from 

42 


Number 29” 


the sedentary life of the office, it seemed as 
if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. 
There came over him, too, a strange con- 
sciousness of kinship with the toiling masses 
whose livery he now wore. 

“Here’s a new roller to break in, b’ys. 
He’s goin’ to spell Waters awhile when he 
larns the ropes.” 

This was the way Superintendent Mitchell 
introduced Philip to the men at the rolls. 
The breaking in of a roller was not an uncom- 
mon thing, and the only matter for surprise 
to all of them except Waters was the newness 
of Philip’s attire throughout and the fairness 
of his skin, which showed that he had not 
come from among the men in the mill, but 
from the outside, and was, therefore, wholly 
raw to mill work. Such an one is quite 
likely to be made the butt of some rough 
but usually good-natured gibing by his fellow 
workmen. But if he has sufficient self- 
command to keep his temper, and wit enough 
to hold his own at a give-and-take, he will 
get along well enough. 

Philip’s initiation in the mills was attended 
by a certain amount of this somewhat in- 
elegant gibing. He took it all in good part, 
however, and usually managed to give back 

43 


A Captain of Industry 

a little better than was sent, which, in any 
company, is always a passport to favor. 

He proved an apt pupil at the rolls, making 
rapid progress under the sympathetic coach- 
ing of Waters and the no less helpful hints 
of his companion roller. 

The last mentioned individual, Tom Ten- 
wick by name, was a man who had always 
had the misfortune, like many another, to 
be taken at his “face value.’’ This placed 
him at a great disadvantage, for his features 
presented more than the little strangeness 
m the proportion which according to Francis 
Bacon characterizes all excellent beauty. His 
face was long and thin, the forehead high 
and narrow. His eyes were turned inward, 
seemingly focusing their gaze upon his nose, 
which modest member embarrassed, appar- 
ently, by such unremittent scrutiny, was 
suffused with an abiding blush. The oblique 
cast of the eyes heightened a certain inde- 
finable look of vacancy in the countenance 
which usuallv attends an abeyance of some 
mental faculty. And Tenwick did afford 
some excuse to his associates who were wont 
to tap their heads significantly when they 
spoke of him; for he had one grave fault, 
or defect of character — and was it not a 

44 


Number 29” 


defect? — ^he reversed the usual confusion as 
to meum and tuum. He never could keep 
anything for himself that any one else seemed 
to need. This guileless generosity frequently 
made him the dupe of those ubiquitous 
parasites who live by exploiting their fellows 
of lesser wit. TenwicK s wages were con- 
tinually being attached on garnishment pro- 
cess to answer to some claim that haa its 
origin in this unfortunate disposition of his 
to give everybody else the best of it. 

Under the operation of the law of the 
survival of the fittest (shrewdest?) such men 
as Tenwick have a soriy time of it. But 
when that wretched fiction shall give way 
to a higher social law of charity, patience, 
kindness and helpfulness, how many arid 
human wastes will be reclaimed to flower 
and fruitage! 

John Waters remained with Philip sharing 
the work and coaching him until Wednesday 
of the week following. 

“I guess you can go it alone now,” he 
then said to him; and giving him his number 
to hand to the time-keeper, he left the mill. 

Waters’s confidence was justified, for Philip 
handled the heated bars in a way that elicited 
from Tenwick the suflScient compliment: 

45 


A Captain of Industry 

“ Waters couldn’t ’a done that any better.” 

A little before six o’clock the last pile 
from the furnace was put through the rolls. 
Philip then put aside the grappling-tongs 
and joined the line passing by the time- 
keeper’s window. 

“Number 29,” he called out cheerily as 
he pushed in his number. 

‘^29,” echoed the time-keeper. “Check.” 


46 


CHAPTER VIII 


An Introduction under Peculiar 
Circumstances 

Leaving the mill Philip returned to his 
dressing-room in the office building, put off 
the garb of “No. 29,” took a bath-tub plunge, 
gave himself a vigorous rub down, put on 
his customary attire, and emerged from the 
building, again Mr. Philip Middleton, Assist- 
ant Secretary of the Ellerton Iron & Steel 
Works. 

How much better he felt, though, than 
when leaving his desk to throw himself into 
the soft, luxurious seat of the waiting carriage ! 
The three hours’ work in the mills was of 
right quantity to send healthfully coursing 
his hitherto sluggish blood, and to give him 
that grateful physical feeling which comes 
from bodily powers active, not dormant. 

The mills marked the terminus of Eller- 
ton’s one street car line, passenger traffic to 
and from the mills having warranted the 
extension of the line out to that point. 

By taking the car, therefore, Philip was 

47 


A Captain of Industry 

enabled to reach home in good time for 
dinner. 

He was coming now to enjoy his dinners, 
too; and good digestion waited upon his 
appetite. 

^‘Hunger is the best sauce,’’ says an old 
proverb. So, also, manual labor — in mod- 
erate amount — is one of the best of appetizers. 

Philip’s physical rejuvenation brought with 
it an access of animal spirits which put him 
on good terms with himself and everybody 
else. 

“Has she said ‘yes’?” Edith asked him 
one evening, noting his good humor. 

“Not for publication,” he answered, play- 
fully giving her ear a pinch. “ I wish, though, 
that you’d say ‘no’ to half a dozen or so of 
your admirers so that we shouldn’t be eternally 
interrupted at our cribbage.” 

Edith looked up archly. “Is that quite 
complimentary to me, sir, to think that I 
could get rid of them so easily? A young 
lady’s ‘no’ isn’t supposed to mean anything. 
Give me a more effectual way.’ 

“I will, for to-night, if you will be good 
enough to take it. You’re ‘not at home’.” 

“Well! Well!” interjected Mrs. Middle- 
ton. “ He is conventional for once, isn’t 

48 


An Introduction 


he? This is such a rare thing with him, 
Edith, that you’d better encourage him.” 

“ Conventional ! ” thought Philip. “ What’ll 
she say when she learns of my very uncon- 
ventional proceeding at the mills?” 

She was soon to know of it — as was the 
whole town for that matter. Philip had 
intended, on his father’s return, to take him 
into his confidence and talk the matter over 
fully with him; and he made no doubt that he 
should succeed in winning him over to 
acquiescence in the arrangement he had 
made, if not to an approval of it. 

It will be seen how the first interview 
tallied with his expectations. 

The main object of Mr. Middleton’s trip 
South was to secure, if possible, a large steel- 
rail contract with the St. L. I. M. & S. 
Railroad Co. That company had com- 
menced the construction of a branch line, 
and was about to place the order for the rails. 

Mr. Middleton nad a favorable conference 
with the oflBcials of the road at St. Louis. 
Returning to that city after a few days spent 
in New Orleans, he had a further interview 
with Mr. Elridge, the president of the road; 
and as that official was about to start for 
Chicago, he took the train with him and 

49 


A Captain of Industry 

prevailed upon him to stop over at Ellerton 
until the night train for the North, that he 
might visit the mills and make a personal 
inspection of the company’s rails. 

Sir. Elridge was accompanied by his daugh- 
ter who was going to visit with friends in 
Chicago. 

The train arrived at Ellerton at 3.30 p.m. 
Mr. Middleton took his guests direct to the 
mills, stopping long enough in town, how- 
ever, to get Mr. Hartland, president of the 
Commercial Bank, who was the vice-president 
of the rolling mill company and, next to Mr. 
Middleton, the heaviest stockholder. 

Mr. Hartland’s son, George, and Mr. 
Munson, the editor and proprietor of the 
Ellerton Argus, who happened to be in the 
bank at the time, also joined the party. 

Mr. Munson was also a stockholder in the 
mills. He owned two shares (par value one 
hundred dollars). The impression prevailed, 
however, that he had a much greater pro- 
prietary interest. For this impression Mr. 
Munson was himself largely responsible. In 
speaking of the mills he invariably used the 
first person plural of the personal pronoun. 
“We did a big business last year,” he would 
say; “but it looks as if we’d break the record 

50 


An Introduction 


this year.” “It’s going to make us hump 
to fill the orders we now have on hand.” 
“We shall have to enlarge our plant con- 
siderably very soon and increase our working 
force.” Etc. 

But this was a perfectly harmless conceit 
of Mr. Munson’s, and the mill officials 
suffered him gladly. As editor of the Argus 
he was in a position to keep the mills in the 
public eye and to cultivate a favorable 

E ublic opinion. He was a man of rather 
eavy wit himself, but he had a very talented 
wife, and this doubtless accounted for the 
fact that the Argus was a uniformly well- 
edited paper. His connubial good fortune 
was the more remarkable from the fact that 
his intellectual deficiencies were in no way 
made up for by personal attractiveness. He 
was short and fat, with a full-moon face and 
bald pate. He had a waddling gait, and a 
wheezy voice sounded out his ponderous 
platitudes. Mr. Munson was, in short, a 
type of that not altogether useless individual 
whose unconscious mission in life is to give 
pleasure to those who are blessed with a 
sense of humor. 

Mr. Middleton arrived at the mills with 
his visitors shortly after four o’clock. Mr. 

51 


A Captain of Indmtry 

Cosgrove, the secretary and treasurer of the 
company, had gone home. Mr. Middleton 
was less disappointed at this, however, than 
in not finding Philip in the oflSce, for he had 
intended to have him join the party in the 
tour of the mills. His disappointment would 
have been keener had he not reflected that 
he would have the opportunity to present 
his son to Mr. Elridge and his daughter at 
dinner. 

He now led the way into the mills. Superin- 
tendent Mitchell was sent for, and under his 
guidance Mr. Middleton and his company 
began the rounds of the mill. 

Now Philip, as usual, had relieved John 
Waters at three o’clock, and was at this 
time busy at the rolls. This, of course, 
Mitchell knew, and he was plainly embar- 
rassed when he was called upon to conduct 
Mr. Middleton’s party through the mill. 
At the time, this embarrassment was at- 
tributed (by Mr. Munson) to a natural 
diffidence in the presence of such distin- 
guished visitors. He soon regained his com- 
posure, however, as the humorous possibilities 
of an expected event began to appeal to him. 

They soon came around to the rolls. Philip 
was putting a steel bar through the rolb 

52 



M Well if it isn’t Phil Middleton! ” 





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‘ t . 0 



An Introduction 


with his back turned to the approaching 
party. When he had passed the bar through 
the last roll and sent it on to the finishers, 
he wheeled about to take his position for 
another round, and found himself face to 
face with the goodly company. 

“Well, if it isn’t Phil Middleton!” cried 
young Hartland in open-eyed wonder. 

Philip, for a moment, looked like one who 
has been apprehended flagrante delicto. But 
it would have taken a deft artist to have 
caught the expressions of surprise, chagrin, 
anger and mortification which chased them- 
selves across the face of Mr. Middleton as 
he stood aghast at this astounding situation. 

What! his son — ^the son of the president of 
the company in workman’s clothes toiling 
and sweating with common hands in the mill ! 
Preposterous ! 

Turning angrily to Mitchell he said : 

“ What nonsense is this, Mitchell ? Are 
you so short of men that you must make drafts 
upon the oflfice force?” 

Mitchell laughed. His Irish sense of humor 
had been aroused which prevented his seeing 
any but the funny side of the situation, and 
made him not indisposed to draw out the 
joke. At the same time a slight feeling of 

53 


A Captain of Industry 

resentment at the disparagement of his co- 
workers in the mill, implied in Mr. Middle- 
ton’s tone, may have inclined him to “rub 
it in” on him. Drawing himself up he said: 

“ Well, sir, we’re always on the lookout 
for good min, and this young feller is as likely 
a hand at the rolls as we’ve had in many a 
day. I dunno why he applied for the job — ^ 
ye’ll have to ask him that.” And Mitchell 
waved his hand toward Philip like one shifting 
all further responsibility. 

“ This is ah my doing, father,” said Philip, 
who had now recovered himself. “I felt the 
need of exercise and this is my way of getting 
it. I am drawing on one of the men here 
who has plenty to spare. I take his place 
at the rolls from three to six in the afternoon; 
and what benefits me to gain benefits him to 
lose. It’s at no sacrifice of my . office work, 
either, as Mr. Cosgrove will probably tell you. 
This is hardly the time or the place that I 
should have chosen to let you know about 
the experiment, but things don’t always go 
according to program. Still, there is nothing 
in this that I am ashamed of, and nothing, 
either, of which you need be ashamed.” 

The countenances of the listeners expressed 
various emotions. Mr. Hartland turned to- 

54 


An Introduction 


ward Mr. Middleton a face in which cold 
cynicism was mixed with commiseration. Mr. 
Munson stood as if transfixed, in a hopeless 
daze. His slow-moving mental processes 
finally brought him around to a consciousness 
of the situation, and turning to Miss Elridge, 
who stood at his side, he said with the tone 
and manner of one imparting information: 

“ It’s his son — Mr. Middleton’s son.” 

“Yes, I know,” she said, repressing with 
difficulty a laugh at Mr. Munson’s expense. 

Mr. Elridge, during Philip’s recital, had 
stood with hand supporting his chin, a merry 
twinkle in his eye and a look of interest and 
amusement on his face, which anon changed 
to one of pensive melancholy as he thought 
of his own son, lost to him years ago, just as 
he was ripening into manhood, and who 
evinced much of the same ingenuous spirit 
as did the young man who stood before him. 

When Philip finished speaking, Mr. Elridge 
turned to Mr. Middleton and said : 

“Mr. Middleton, will you honor me with 
an introduction to your son.^^” 

“The honor must certainly be his if you 
seek an introduction under the present cir- 
cumstances,” said Mr. Middleton, somewhat 
mollified by Mr. Elridge’s attitude. 

55 


A Captain of Industry 

“Philip, this is Mr. Elridge, the president 
of the St. Louis & Iron Mountain road, who 
is visiting us for a few hours.” 

Mr. Elridge grasped Philip’s hand before 
he had a chance to remove his coarse working- 
glove, and shook it heartily. Then, still 
retaining hold of his hand he drew him 
forward and presented him to his daughter. 

Philip lifted his workman’s cap and bowed. 

“Miss Elridge must certainly regard apol- 
ogies as superfluous.” 

“They are quite unnecessary, Mr. Middle- 
ton,” she replied with a winning smile. 

“Now, Mr. Middleton,” said Mr. Elridge 
to Philip, “you must not let us interrupt 
your work. We came especially to see the 
steel-rail rolling. It will now have an added 
interest.” 

“Very well,” said Philip. “There are a 
few more bars in the furnace we are now 
working, and we are at your service until they 
are disposed of.” 

The astonishment of the mill workers on 
discovering that they had been for the past 
fortnight entertaining the president’s son un- 
awares, may be imagined; and one or two 
who had been rather caustic in their badger- 
ing of the “green hand” thought they had 

56 


An Introduction 


a fai: jetting their “time’’ with- 



How little they knew 


out 


Philip Middleton! 

The heaters and haulers were now signalled, 
and the buggy came on with its heated freight. 
Philip and Tenwick received it at their sta- 
tions and put the metal on its course through 
the rolls. 

Philip Middleton never appeared to better 
advantage — not even when pulling an oar 
with his college crew — than now, as with feet 
firmly planted and muscles tense he held the 
swaying metal in obedience to his will. Six 
feet he stood, broad shouldered and broad 
chested and large of limb. A young Hercules 
he appeared, or more properly, perhaps, a 
Vulcan induing his metallic creation with 
seeming life as it crackled and squirmed 
through the compressing rolls. 

Truly, the glory of young men is their 
strength ! 

Mr. Middleton’s paternal pride must at 
that moment have triumphed over any morti- 
fication he felt at finding nis son in the present 
embarrassing position. 

One eye in that company certainly followed 
Philip’s movements admiringly. There is 
an irresistible and doubtless perfectly natural 


57 


A Captain of Indmtry 

attraction to the feminine mind in the con- 
templation of manly strength. This has its 
counterpart in man’s predilection for the 
essentially feminine. 

Miss Elridge turned her eyes from Philip 
for a moment to let them rest upon young 
Hartland who stood beside her. He looked 
like a manikin compared with the stalwart 
form at the rolls. 

Young Hartland went quite wide of the 
mark in his interpretation of her look, for 
his lip curled contemptuously as he said : 

‘‘Absurd, isn’t it?” 

“Do you think so?” she said. “I think 
it’s grand!” 

“Oh, well, perhaps it is in a way,” he 
replied, in a lame attempt to retrieve himself. 

The last bar had now been put through 
the roughing rolls. 

“That finishes this furnace,” said Philip. 
“It will be fifteen or twenty minutes before 
the next one is ready. I don’t suppose you 
will want to wait for that.” 

“Ye nadn’t ather,” said Mitchell to Philip. 
“I’ll take care of the last furnace for ye; an’ 
I guess ye don’t mind much if I do,” giving 
him a sly wink. 

“All right. Thanks!” said Philip with a 
58 


An Introduction 


laugh of appreciation at Mitchell’s perspi- 
cacity. 

Then excusing himself he went to his 
dressing-room, removed his working clothes, 
took his customary bath, dressed, and joined 
the party back to town. 


59 


CHAPTER IX 


In which Philip Proposes a New 
Fad for those who have 
THE Time for it 

Mr. Elridge and his daughter dined with 
the Middletons. 

Naturally enough, the talk turned to a 
discussion of the incident at the mills, in 
spite of Mrs. Middleton’s efforts to divert it 
into other and, to her, more agreeable channels. 
She had been completely dumfounded when 
she heard of the disgraceful plight (for such 
she considered it) in which Philip was found. 
In her view, indeed, the thing was so utterly 
“outre” as to call for the same reticence 
that would have been maintained had he 
been guilty of some moral delinquency. She 
was mortified that the occasion of enter- 
taining distinguished company should be 
marred by such an untoward occurrence, 
and she regarded the apparent approval 
with which Mr. Elridge and his daughter 
looked upon Philip’s conduct as nothing 
more than the ordinary courtesy of guests 

60 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 

who forbear the expression of their real 
sentiments lest they give pain to their hosts. 

Oh, well! he was not her own son, was 
her consoling reflection. She would not hold 
herself responsible for his vagaries, nor be 
an apologist for them. Let Mr. Middleton 
see to it. She would look out for her daugh- 
ter; and she was confident that her influence 
over her would be great enough, at all events, 
to keep her from making herself ridiculous. 

Edith Middleton did not take the matter 
so seriously. When Philip came downstairs 
and into the drawing-room she seized him by 
the shoulders and shook him after the manner 
of imperious sisters, exclaiming: 

“You funny, funny boy! What will you 
do next?’’ 

“Nothing, I hope, that you’ll not approve,” 
said Philip, giving her a playful pat on the 
cheek. 

Mr. Middleton, too, when he became con- 
vinced that the chances of supplying Mr. 
Elridge’s company with the steel rails it 
needed had not been imperilled by the episode 
at the mills, was disposed to look at the 
affair with greater tolerance. It was simply 
a piece of extravagance on the part of a young 
man who had always evinced an uncon- 

61 


A Captain of Industry 

ventional habit of thought and action. His 
enthusiasm would soon abate when his com- 
mon sense revealed to him the absurdity of 
the thing he was doing. And a little good- 
humored raillery, Mr. Middleton thought, 
would be more likely to bring him to his 
senses than would an attitude of pronounced 
disapproval. 

He therefore renewed the subject by saying 
to Mr. Elridge with a wave of his hand 
toward Philip as the latter seated himself : 

“ The illustrious Don Quixote has still 
some followers.” 

“Your son will hardly admit being one of 
them, I imagine,” replied Mr. Elridge smiling. 

“Oh, no, of course not,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton. “He’s as serious about this tomfoolery 
at the mills as the old Don was with his 
windmills — and just as ridiculous. Here is 
a young man who says he needs exercise. 
There are a dozen good and sensible ways 
in which he can get it. He has his dumb- 
bells, his Indian clubs, his punching-bag and 
bars. He has a good horse. If he needs a 
vacation he can take it. But he puts aside 
all the means that are suited to his station, 
and, in cap and blouse, places himself on a 
level with the ordinary mill hand. He gets 

62 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 

exercise, it may be, but he pays an absurd 
and unnecessary price for it.” 

“Instead of cap and blouse, say cap and 
bells,” said Mrs. Middleton sarcastically; “for 
he will make himself the laughing-stock of 
the whole town.” 

“His way of getting exercise is certainly 
an unusual one, but perhaps he can justify 
it,” said Mr. Elridge, looking at Philip en- 
couragingly. 

“Well,” said Philip, “to my mind to go 
into the mills in cap and blouse and turn 
out a steel rail that will be of some use isn’t 
nearly so absurd as to don a sweater and have 
a make-believe fight with a punching-bag 
or make a monkey of myself on a horizontsil 
bar. Taking ^mnastic exercise is like beat- 
ing the air. There is something perfunctory 
about it that in a great measure defeats the 
very end sought. Exercise, to be of any 
great value, must enlist the mind pleasurably. 
And this productive manual tabor does, 
because it is creative as well as bodily exercis- 
ing. It seems to me, therefore, that I have 
adopted the most rational way of getting 
exercise. It may be an unusual way, but, 
when looked at fairly, there’s nothing partic- 
ularly absurd or quixotic about it. I venture 

63 


A Captain of Industry 

to say that nine men out of ten who are 
engaged in sedentary occupations would do 
the same thing if they consulted their own 
inclinations. They would be glad to exchange 
their pens for the carpenters hammer and 
saw or the mason’s trowel for a couple of 
hours every day. And if they would do that, 
and relieve some overworked laborers for 
that length of time each day, they and the 
workmen whom they relieved would be alike 
greatly benefited.” 

“Oh, yes, it would be mighty fine, I have 
no doubt,” said Mr. Middleton, “if people 
could drop their work and go out anci play, 
like children at recess. But we usually stop 
making mud pies when we leave off our 
pinafores.” 

“Something might be said in favor of a 
continuance of the mud-pie habit,” replied 
Philip; “but it would hardly appeal to the 
utilitarian spirit of these times.” 

“ But a change of work such as you suggest 
would hardly be practicable generally, would 
it?” said Mr. Elridge. 

“Not generally, of course, without a radical 
change in business conditions and methods. 
But with a certain class in the community 
the thing would be perfectly feasible. Those 

64 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 

who by reason of inherited or acquired 
wealth have their time pretty much at their 
own disposal, could spend a portion of it 
to no better purpose than in relieving some 
workman at his daily task.” 

“I don’t suppose you see anything incon- 
gruous in men of wealth and refinement 
consorting with vulgar workmen,” said Mrs. 
Middleton contemptuously. 

“Put the same kind of clothes on them 
and the incongruity will not be so very glar- 
ing,” replied Philip. “True refinement is 
not the exclusive possession of the well-to-do. 
Many of them have acquired a certain amount 
of over-refinement that a few hours’ daily 
association with the working classes might 
help them to rub off.” 

“ That’s all very well in theory,” said 
Edith; “but how many men of real refine- 
ment do you su] 
come a natura 
with people of 

“ Oh, I’m not contending for intimate 
companionship,” said Philip, “which, of 
course, is something that demands like tastes 
and ideals, and which, by the way, a person 
of refinement might find among the poorer 
classes, and fail to find among the well-to-do. 

65 


ppose would be able to over- 
1 repugnance to associating 
different tastes and ideals 


A Captain of Industry 

What I have in mind is that sort of human 
fellowship that the Founder of Christianity 
stood for. It will not be contended, I imagine, 
that He lived any the less His own saintly 
life because He sat down with publicans and 
sinners. And yet, a great many who, one 
day in seven, recite His precepts with the 
greatest unction, in their daily lives treat a 
large mass of their fellows as social pariahs, 
to be shunted off with a ‘ Good Lord, deliver 
us!”’ 

A momentary silence ensued upon Philip’s 
last words; such a silence as usually marks 
the reception of an unpalatable truth. 

It was broken by Philip. His face, which 
had just borne a serious and somewhat stern 
expression, relaxed, and with a slight laugh 
he said : 

“Excuse me, I didn’t intend to preach a 
sermon. My proposition needs no appeal to 
religion or philanthropy, and it shouldn’t be 
discredited oy any pnarisaic pietism which 
recognizes a duty and perfunctorily performs 
it. I contend, simply, that if those who have 
a considerable margin of time would spend 
two or three hours of it daily in the way I 
have suggested, they themselves would be 
as much benefited as the workmen whom 

66 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 
they relieve.” 

“And they should render their services 
gratuitously.?” Mr. Middleton asked. 

“ Certainly. It would only be a species 
of restitution, anyway. For the leisure classes 
owe their leisure in great measure to the 
working classes.” 

“This is interesting,” said Miss Elridge 
who up to this time had been a quiet listener. 
“If I were a man I believe I would give 
your plan a trial. It seems to me it would 
be lots of fun.” 

“If that sort of thing would amuse you,” 
said Philip smiling, “your sex needn’t stand 
in the way. You might learn type- writing, 
and occasionally take the place of some 
oflSce girl.” 

There was a general laugh at this. 

“ Well,” said Philip, “I don’t believe Miss 
Elridge would be half as much bored as she 
is at many of the matinees she goes to.” 

“Nor so much as the girl’s employer would 
be with my work,” said Miss Elridge laughing. 

“He shouldn’t be bored in any event,” 
said Philip gallantly; “and as to the merit of 
your performance, it must be remembered 
that in that kind of work intelligence counts 
for more than mere dexterity. The latter is 

67 


A Captain of Industry 

purely mechanical and can be easily acquired.” 

“Really, you encourage me, Mr. Middle- 
ton,” said Miss Elridge playfully. 

“I am afraid you would need a great deal 
of encouragement before attempting such a 
thing,” said Philip with a laugh. 

“And yet, why not?” he continued half 
seriously. “You young women are in a better 
position for that sort of thing than most of 
us men. You have a superabundance of 
time, and your ingenuity, you must confess, 
is constantly taxed in finding ways to take 
it up. Now, here is a good way for you to 
dispose of a portion of it. Here is a fad for 
you that wilt be worth your while. There 
is a multitude of girls in offices, department 
stores and other places, whose strength is 
heavily taxed by long hours of unremitting 
work. They would gladly let you have their 
places for two or three hours every day, or 
even occasionally. You would enjoy the 
work, and, it is needless to say, the working 
girls would enjoy the vacation.” 

“I think we can find enough for our girls 
to do without degrading them in that manner,” 
said Mrs. Middleton with ill-concealed dis- 
gust. 

“Useful work can never degrade any one,” 
68 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 

returned Philip with just a touch of asperity 
in his tone; “and our young women might 
much better put in a part of their superfluous 
time in such work than waste it all upon 
nerve-wrecking frivolities, as many of them 
now do. Take the case of the average young 
society woman. If she were honest with 
herself she would have to admit that her life 
is rather empty. And it is so simply because 
it lacks any serious purpose. She has recourse 
to all manner of diversions — many of them 
frivolous and unhealthful. She takes up 
every new fad, no matter how inane it may 
be, m a futile attempt to fill up the void in 
her life. Sometimes she mounts a hobby, 
which she will ride with the precipitation of 
a Jehu, and delude herself with the notion that 
she is doing something and getting some- 
where, only to discover later that it is nothing 
but a hobby and that she has suffered some 
exhaustion but made no progress. When 
she marries, she is fortunate if she finds any 
taste for the commonplace duties of the home, 
and doesn’t still find herself inclined to a 
restless, unsatisfying hedonism, as fruitless 
as it is fatuous.” 

“My, but you’re complimentary!” ex- 
claimed Edith. 


69 


A Captain of Industry 

“Isn’t he?” said Miss Elridge. 

“And you would remedy this sad state 
of affairs by having us girls take up a line 
of relief work similar to your own, would 
you?” asked Edith. 

“ Relief work — no,” said Philip with a frown. 
“What did I just say about discrediting this 
thing by a show of pietism? And here you 
are killing it with a bad name. Of all hum- 
bugs, professed charities are, in my opinion, 
the worst. Your ‘Homes,’ ‘Helping Hands,’ 
‘Good Samaritan Inns,’ and the like capital- 
lettered institutions, are admirably adapted 
to take away the last shred of self-respect 
that may be left to the recipients of their 
dubious bounty.” 

“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Middleton. 
“You certainly do not mean to disparage the 
work of all of our organized charities, do 
you?” 

“Oh, there is the saving grace of good 
motives at the bottom of most of them, I 
admit. And yet, what are they, at best, 
but makeshifts — organizations to which we 
delegate duties that we ought to perform 
ourselves? How many of our eleemosynary 
institutions do you suppose would have any 
excuse for existing if every home were a 

70 


In which Philip Proposes a New Fad 

hospital and every man his brother’s keeper?” 

“Here, here!” Mr. Middleton interposed. 
“I thought you were not going to preach?” 

“ Let him preach,” said Mr. Elridge laugh- 
ing. “The sermon isn’t prosy. We sha’n’t 
fall asleep under it.” 

“Well, the sermon is over,” said Philip as 
the maid here came to announce dinner. 
“And now I’ll present the strongest argument 
in favor of my plan by showing what an 
appetite it gives one for dinner.” 

Mrs. Middleton felt greatly relieved. Re- 
leased from the restraint imposed upon her 
by a discussion in which she took little interest, 
she was enabled to give free play to that tact 
and resource to which she was indebted for 
her pre-eminence as a hostess. 

“Entertaining,” was, indeed, in Mrs. 
Middleton’s estimation one of the fine arts, 
and was studied by her with all the assiduity 
of an art devotee. And if she found her 
inspiration in a supreme regard for the forms 
and conventions of good usage, and exalted 
the thing itself above its genial and kindly 
purpose, she had a large and influential 
fellowship in those who worship art for art’s 
sake, recognizing no ulterior end beyond the 
perfection of form, color and perspective, 

71 


A Captain of Industry 

according to certain well-defined artistic 
canons. 

Philip ably seconded Mrs. Middleton’s 
efforts so far as Miss Elridge was concerned, 
and it is suspected that industrial and social 
problems did not engross their attention to 
the exclusion of other, and, perhaps, equally 
interesting subjects of conversation. Train 
time came all too soon for him, and it was 
only left to him to protract his pleasure by 
the drive to the station, whither he and his 
father accompanied their guests. 

When Miss Elridge bade Philip good-bye 
she said with eyes twinkling: 

“I think when I get back to St. Louis I 
will start the new fad that you suggested.” 

“Good!” replied Philip laughing. “Write 
me about it when you do.” 

“All right!” she responded gaily. 

But as Philip drove slowly homeward in 
some depression of spirits, which came as a 
reaction from the experiences of the day, 
it occurred to him that he had rested his 
request to hear from her upon a rather remote 
contingency. * 


72 


CHAPTER X 


Containing a Brief Description of Two 
Worthy Persons, and Showing Mr. 

Edridge’s Appreciation of 
Skilled Labor 

In a town the size of Ellerton an event 
such as has been described, with the added 
incidents attending its disclosure, was quite 
of a kind to start the tongues of the Mrs. 
Grundys, male and female, to vigorous wag- 
ging. Not often was such a fine bit of gossip 
afforded to those who, in a small community, 
take upon themselves the burden of the 
daily paper in the dissemination of news. 
The idea of a young man voluntarily leaving 
his oflfice desk to take up manual labor during 
a portion of the day was suflficiently novel in 
itself. But when that young man belonged 
to the first family in the town, which might 
properly be looked to for patterns of regular, 
orderly and becoming behavior — ^well! here 
was something to arouse the interest of the 
most staid inhabitant. The thing was bandied 
about until the whole town was agog over it. 

73 


A Captain of Industry 

And, in certain quarters, Philip did make 
himself a laughing-stock as Mrs. Middleton 
had predicted. 

George Hartland, having most of his in- 
formation at first hand, lost no opportunity 
to retail it, with certain reflections of his 
own thereon to the general effect that Philip 
had made a great big fool of himself. 

Hartland felt somewhat piqued over Miss 
Elridge’s unfavorable reception of his remark 
at the mills characterizing Philip’s action as 
absurd. But he consoled himself with the 
reflection that she and her father had only 
tried to smooth over a disagreeable situation. 
For goodness’ sake! what else could it be but 
absurd — ^working like a day laborer when 
you didn’t have to ? 

Indeed, to a young man like Hartland 
the affair could hardly appear in any other 
light. With him appearances were every- 
thing, and should be kept up at all hazards. 
To him fashion was a fetish, at whose shrine 
he worshiped devotedly, and to whose slight- 
est behests he was implicitly obedient. The 
“proper thing” had in him one of the truest 
or exponents. It was beautiful to see how he 
exemplified the vogue in the smallest things. 
For example, in the matter of the salutation 

74 


Two Worthy Persons 

upon meeting a ladj^ acquaintance — one year 
would see him giving his hat a perpendic- 
ular lift; another, bowing his recognition 
and then ceremoniously lifting his hat after 
he had passed his acquaintance; and again, 
giving his hat a quarter-circle sw^eep which 
in its mathematical accuracy suggested noth- 
ing so much as a pair of bow-compasses. 

It is hardly necessary to say that he affected 
the latest thing in clothes. He was the 
earliest and the most satisfactory visitor at 
the leading tailor’s establishment when the 
season’s new importations were announced, 
and no one who kept his eye on him had any 
occasion for consulting the fashion-plate. 

Well, good clothes — fashionable clothes — 
are splendid things when there is a man 
inside of them. But, either on the street or 
in show-windows, they make a poor com- 
bination with wax figures. 

And yet, Hartland wasn’t a bad fellow. 
Indeed, he was an exceedingly useful member 
of the community, particularly to the feminine 
portion. An exemplar of the fashion, an 
expert dancer, full of the latest gossip, and 
adept in that light chit-chat which, like the 
frothy foam upon the water, though without 
weight, yet shows that the stream is not 

75 


A Captain of Industry 

stagnant; lavish, too, with his money for the 
ends of entertainment — all this made him, 
quite naturally, a considerable factor in the 
social life of the town. To be sure, he was 
not a young man to arouse any very deep 
emotions in the hearts of the fair sex. Neither, 
on the other hand, was he very impression- 
able himself, and so was not likely to em- 
barrass his young lady friends by any mawkish 
ebullitions of sentiment. 

Gay, careless, self-indulgent, pleasure-loving 
and pleasure-seeking, he was a fair type of 
the young man who is impelled neither by 
inclination nor necessity to look the world 
seriously in the face. 

Young Hartland, by the grace of his father, 
held the position of assistant cashier in the 
Commercial Bank. About the only assistance 
he rendered, however, was in depleting the 
bank’s exchequer to the extent of a generous 
salary. 

For that matter, though, the other officers 
of the bank, with the exception of the presi- 
dent, were likewise mere figureheads. It was 
decidedly a one-man bank, and Mr. Hart- 
land senior was that man. The duties of 
the other officers were wholly ministerial. 
The cashier, for instance, affixed his necessary 

76 


Two Worthy Persons 

signature to the bank’s paper, and superin- 
tended generally the routine monetary trans- 
actions of the bank; but he never essayed 
to make a loan of the bank’s funds. Any 
uninformed person who applied to him for 
money was promptly referred to the president. 
The cashier was occasionally consulted in 
regard to loans, but this was a mere matter 
of form, and he gave his advice in a per- 
functory way and without any feeling of 
responsibility in the matter, knowing, as he 
did, how little Mr. Hartland needed advice 
about loaning money, and how little he would 
be influenced by any that might be given. 

There are men born into the world, seem- 
ingly, with a genius for making money, as 
there are geniuses in other lines of human 
endeavor; and their successful manipulations 
are often quite as inexplicable. 

Had a phrenologist examined Mr. Hart- 
land’s head when he was a babe he would 
have discovered and doubtless commented 
on an extraordinary bump of acquisitiveness 
which his cranium disclosed. This phreno- 
logic organ had suffered no diminution when 
Mr. Hartland arrived at man’s estate. It 
had, rather, been developed and strengthened 
by constant exercise of the acquisitive faculty. 

77 


A Captain of Industry 

As a boy the leadings of this faculty were 
apparent in the facility with which he would 
effect a transfer of various belongings from 
the pockets of the other boys to his own. 
He early made himself skilled in the marble 
games of “Boston,” “long-taw” and “porto,” 
and so always played “for keeps”; and his 
less skilful playmates soon found themselves 
“strapped” in their encounters with him in 
these fascinating games. Then, with his 
pockets bulging with his gains, he would sell 
the marbles back to the boys, inducing them 
to purchase by offering them at a less price 
than they would have to pay for them at 
the stores. He would then proceed to repeat 
the “strapping” process. The boys, how- 
ever, were too unsophisticated to see that 
they were simply paying him tribute for the 
pleasure of playing the game. 

In the wild-fruit season he had surprising 
information (which he studiously kept to 
himself) as to the location of the best plum, 
red-haws and crab-apple trees; and he would 
frequently appear among the boys with his 
hat full of the luscious fruit, and having 
properly whetted their appetites by a display 
of his “find,” he would proceed to distribute 
it among them — for an adequate consideration. 

78 


Two Worthy Persons 


By such commendable forehandedness, and 
by paying heed to certain trite economic 
maxims such as, “The early bird catches 
the worm,” “A penny saved is a penny 
earned,” etc., — all well calculated to nourish 
and conserve the acquisitive faculty, — Mr, 
Hartland was, when he came to take up the 
serious business of life, more than a match 
for the average man in the great game of 
dollar-grabbing, which was at once his work 
and his sole diversion. 

While the workings of genius are usually 
occult, some • genius of 



finance were 


For in- 


stance, he never made the egregious mistake 
of mixing sentiment with business. Grace 
never figured in his dealings except when he 
recognized the legal three days on maturing 
obligations. He had an accountable pre- 
dilection for placing loans where the collateral 
in hand was ample and the business venture 
of the borrower precarious. Like a huge 
spider he would sit in the luxuriously fur- 
nished back parlor of the bank and lure the 
unsuspecting and innocent human flies, and 
when he had them safely secured in his web 
he would give free play to his spider instincts. 

“I’m not running a charitable institution,” 


79 


A Captain of Industry 

he was wont to say when an appeal for 
leniency was made on behalf of his victims. 
That he wasn’t was amply evidenced by the 
more than respectable amount of tangible 
property which through frequent executions 
and foreclosures found its way into his 
capacious maw. 

Well, Mr. Hartland had his reward. He 
had the dubious distinction of being pointed 
out as a “ rich old codger.” There were some, 
indeed, who went so far as to characterize 
him (under their breaths) as a skinflint. 
But these were people so old-fogyish in their 
ideas as to think that the Golden Rule made 
a good working basis in business as well as 
in morals, only to discover how seriously 
they were handicapped in their dealings with 
Mr. Hartland by entertaining such antiquated 
notions. 

It may be imagined how a man like Mr. 
Hartland would look upon a situation such 
as was disclosed to him at the mills. The 
absurdity of the thing (and to him it was 
absurd enough) was a matter of little conse- 
quence. Philip might make all kinds of a 
fool of himself if he chose and arouse neither 
his interest nor his animadversion. But Mr. 
Hartland was a heavy stockholder in the mills, 

80 


Two Worthy Persons 

and his cold financial nose scented trouble. 

“No good can come of this,” he said to 
Mr. Middleton the next day. “He’ll only 
be putting foolish notions into the heads of 
the men, and we’ll be having trouble with 
’em.” 

One of the foolish notions, doubtless, which 
Mr. Hartland feared that the men in the mills 
might perchance come to conceive, was that 
they were human beings, and not mere 
“hands,” part and parcel of the machinery 
and material, all working to one definite, 
proper and (to Mr. Hartland) satisfying end 
— ^the production of handsome dividends to 
the stockholders. Such a notion would, of 
course, from Mr. Hartland’s point of view, 
be a very dangerous thing. Men of thimble- 
rigging propensities always rely upon the 
ignorance of their intended victims. The 
predatory lords of creation have in all times 
effected their own security by the inhibition 
of the tree of knowledge to the masses upon 
whom they prey. He was a wise man who 
in the days of Roman slavery objected to the 
proposition offered in the senate that the 
slaves should be uniformed. “If you do 
that,” he said, “they will discover their great 
number and we shall have an insurrection,” 

81 


A Captain of Industry 

In truth, something may be said, and, 
indeed, has been said, as to the advantages 
of a condition of ignorance for the masses. 
To be wise above one’s station in life is to be 
continually fretted with desires that cannot 
be gratified, and to fume and sweat under 
impositions that will not be lifted. There is 
no disturbance of ec^uanimity in being robbed 
without knowing it, and no rankling and 
disquieting feelings impelling to reprisals. 

Yes, commend our overworked and under- 
paid toiler, who is inclined to forego the bliss 
of ignorance and will ask those ugly questions 
— ^why he is overworked and underpaid — 
commend him to the belabored and underfed 
dray-horse who, if he has any conception 
about the matter at all, does not connect 
the underfeeding and belaboring with the 
volition of his master, but feels them to be 
inseparable incidents of his condition as a 
dray-horse. 

To a man like Mr. Hartland Philip’s 
entry into the mills might well seem a figura- 
tive putting of new wine into old bottles, to 
be followed by like consequences; and he 
even went so far as to expostulate with Mr. 
Middleton, urging him to put a stop to such 
foolishness. 


82 


Two Worthy Persons 

Mr. Middleton quite agreed with him as 
to the foolishness of Philip’s action, but he 
was also wise enough to see that the exercise 
of any positive veto authority in the matter 
would be equally foolish. The most cordial 
relations had always existed between himself 
and his son, and he was not disposed to 
endanger them by thwarting any of his son’s 
plans so long as his own purposes were not 
crossed. 

Of course, he discussed the matter with 
Philip and tried to dissuade him from further 
continuing his absurd course; but finding 
him determined to do so, and not without 
a good defence of it in a pronounced better- 
ment of his physical condition and in the 
increased efficiency of his office work, he 
waved the matter aside with a “ Oh, well, go 
ahead. You’ll get tired of it soon enough 
anyway.” 

And so Philip went on in the even tenor 
of his way, growing in health and strength 
and in the knowledge of the iron busi- 
ness. His position was strongly fortified 
by the following personal letter which 
his father received from Mr. Elridge about 
two weeks after that gentleman’s visit to 
Ellerton : 


83 


A Captain of Industry 

St. Louis, Mo., June 25, 18 — 

Mr. Edward Middleton, 

Pres. Ellerton Iron & Steel Works, 

Ellerton , 

My dear Sir: 

It gives me great pleasure to write you 
personally and advise you that we have 
decided to give your company the contract 
for furnishing the rails for our branch line. 
We shall need about 8,000 tons, which 
quantity please be prepared to furnish upon 
estimates which will be sent to you from 
time to time by our Engineer. 

We shall also have to erect two bridges on 
the line, and we shall look to you for the 
material for these, as well, if we can come 
to satisfactory terms, as no doubt we can. 
Our Engineer will send you the bridge plans 
and specifications. 

So far as I have been personally instru- 
mental in securing these contracts for your 
company I have not been uninfiuenced by 
what I have learned through personal observa- 
tion about the skilled labor m your mills. I 
am not much given to superstition in such 
matters, but I cannot help feeling that good 
luck will attend the traflBc over these rails. 

My respects to Mrs. Middleton and Miss 

84 


Two Worthy Persons 

Middleton, and warmest regards to your son, 
of whom, believe me, you have every reason 
to be proud. 

Very truly yours, 

James B. Elridge. 


85 


CHAPTER XI 


John Waters 


Not more marked was the improvement 
in Philip’s health and spirits since taking up 
the dail k in the mill, than was the 



better in John Waters. He 


change 


seemed to have received a generous infusion 
of the elixir of life into his veins. He walked 
more erect and with an elastic step. A 
brightness came into his eye, and the face 
which had been drawn and marked with the 
signs of physical exhaustion gradually rounded 
into fulness and became enlivened by an 
unwonted animation. His work was no longer 
the monotonous drudgery of days past, but 
was taken up with the zest and energy that 
are enlisted in pleasurable tasks. 


This noticeable improvement, however, was 
not altogether due to release from the high 
physical tension under which he had been 
working. It meant much, of course, to have 
three hours of hard and exacting labor lifted 
from his shoulders daily, giving, as it did, 
adequate rest to his heavily taxed muscles. 


86 


John Waters 


But there was another important factor in 
Waters’s rejuvenation. He felt the stirrings 
of the long dormant faculties of his mind. 
He was awakening to the life of the intellect. 

This awakening came late with Waters. 
Yes, and with many it never comes. All 
men are, presumably, born with that anatom- 
ical conformation known as the brain; and 
yet, considering the little use the mass of our 
toilers have for that organ they might just 
about as well have been born without it. 

The immortal Gulliver tells us that in the 
Academy of Lagado, one of the academicians 
was busied in preparing a lotion which was 
to be applied to lambs to prevent the growth 
of their wool ; and that the savant was hopeful 
of propagating, within a reasonable time, a 
breed of naked sheep. 

Shade of the mighty Swift! Would it be 
giving too great a reach to thy riotous genius 
if we attribute to thee a forecasting vision, 
and interpret this satire as a thrust of thy 
powerful lance at the present industrial age, 
m which a merciless imposition and division 
of labor is developing a race of brainless 
human automata ? 

Manifestly, a system which constrains a 
man, during the most of his waking hours, to 

87 


A Captain of Industry 

a monotonous round of purely mechanical 
movements is not likely to develop in that 
man any great amount of brain power. A 
man so circumstanced has little material out 
of which to form ideas. His conversation is 
not likely to be very animated or varied, but 
will be as limited in its range as are his daily 
experiences. You — favored of birth and 

fortune and with abundant leisure to cul- 
tivate the graces and fine amenities of polite 
society — as you meet such a one trudging 
stolidly homeward after his day’s work, are 
you not inclined to take note simply of the 
awkward gait, the doltish, uninformed coun- 
tenance and the unkempt garb, and to draw 
your skirts about you as you pass by, for- 
getting the manner of life he is forced to lead, 
which makes and keeps him what he is ? 
Were his tread-mill existence yours, how 
long, think you, would it be before you 
began to show a degenerating change? Do 
you think those catchy hons mots would 
continue to drop so easily from your lips? 
Would you not become a little less resource- 
ful in argument — ^somewhat halting in rep- 
artee ? 

By the sentence of no court of justice, but 
by as coercive a decree of fate, John Waters 

88 


John Waters 


had been condemned to hard labor from his 
earliest years. He had hardly familiarized 
himself with the rudiments of an education 
before he was called upon, by the death of 
his father, to be the mainstay of the numerous 
“hostages to fortune’’ which that parent had 
left behind him in lieu of a marketable 
inheritance. Since that time Waters’s life 
had been a life of toil — hard, continuous and, 
for the most part, ill paid. Released in time 
from his filial obligations he contracted others 
more immediately his own by getting married. 
Of course, this was an economic blunder — 
justly so rated by those who are in the business 
of developing human machines, and who, as 
an incident of that process, adjust the wage 
scale on a unit basis. 

No — ^to answer the inevitable query — 
Waters, in his early working years, had not 
wanted those wise admonitions to industry, 
honesty, frugality and economy — those illusive 
finger-posts to success which are set up with 
such confidence by those who are in the habit 
of formulating rules from exceptional cases, 
and who do not see that a soulless, con- 
scienceless commercialism is stretching the 
toiling masses upon a Procrustean bed of 
greed, little recking whether the individual 

89 


A Captain of Industry 

toiler is longer or shorter by reason of the 
presence or absence of the aforesaid virtues. 

Waters, certainly — like many another — 
must have felt the mocking irony of such 
admonitions in the face of multiplying neces- 
sities and an inadequate wage. 

Hard manual labor having thus been his 
continuous portion, small wonder that Waters’s 
thoughts should have traveled little beyond 
the scope of his exacting employment, and 
that he should have come to recognize such a 
restricted sphere as his station in life, to 
which — as it would have pleased some to say — 
he had been called, and wherewith he should 
be content. 

Contented he was, in a way. There is a 
fortunate capacity in every one for adjust- 
ment to the conditions under which he lives. 
Let them be ever so hard and restrictive, one 
will get accustomed to them and go along 
under them in a sort of lethargic content- 
ment, not unlike the ox over the furrow — 
in slow, swaying and measured step, little 
heeding the pricking goad, nor much acceler- 
ating the pace on account of it. But as the ox 
is rather primitive in agriculture and is giving 
place to more improved agencies, so, may 
we hope, there will be a decreasing number 

90 


John Waters 


of his human prototypes in mill and factory 
and mine, plodding their monotonous, mechan- 
ical and deadening course, with faculties and 
capacities for a fuller and higher life lying 
latent and unused. 

A revelation of this higher life had now 
come to Waters. He may have had glimpses 
of it before. He may have been conscious 
of the great disparities of condition between 
the rich and the poor; of opportunities and 
privileges eiyoyed by the one and denied to 
the other. But such a consciousness aroused 
in him no envious feelings. The life of the 
well-to-do seemed foreign to him. A great 
gulf stretched between that and his own. 
In his mind, and in his experience as well, 
that life was antagonistic to his own. It was 
not for him nor for his children; nor did he 
look for any droppings therefrom to fall 
upon the parched and arid wastes of his own 
lire to render it more fruitful. 

But what were his thoughts now, under 
the influence of this new and strange experi- 
ence with Philip Middleton Here was the 
son of the president of the mill company (a 
huge concern in whose vast industrial purposes 
Waters had felt his own individuality swal- 
lowed up like a chip upon an impelling 

91 


A Captain of Industry 

flood), a young man with all the privileges 
and immunities of wealthy station, taking 
upon himself for a time the obligations of 
humble toil, and, by so much, lifting the 
burden from another less favored of fortune. 
Here, indeed, was a light from a higher and 
richer life coming, not as it had seemed to 
Waters to come before — like forked flashes 
from the angry clouds, threatening and 
sinister — ^but with a mellow and illumining 
glow. It stole into Waters’s heart, warming 
it into new and more generous pulsations and 
melting down the encrusted cynicism which 
the hard conditions of his life had engendered. 
Hope and aspiration, feeble in their first 
flickerings, grew apace, and the benumbed 
and sleeping faculties of his being awakened 
to conscious life. 

One thing troubled John Waters. He felt 
that he was getting a great benefit without 
giving anything in return. True, Philip had 
disclaimed any altruistic motive. It was for 
his own good as well as for that of Waters 
that he had taken up the mill work. But, 
being the grateful beneficiary of the experi- 
ment, Waters was not disposed to draw any 
fine distinctions as to Philip’s motives in 
entering upon it. He was anxious to do 

92 


John Waters 


something not only to show his appreciation 
of Philip’s kindness, but to make some 
return for it. 

What could he do P 

In pondering this question an idea occurred 
to him. In the course of his time in the 
mills he had seen a number of improvements 
introduced in the machinery and appliances. 
These had been invented by some one. Why 
could he not invent something of sufficient 
novelty and utility to warrant its introduction 
into the mills ? Here was an objective point 
toward which to direct his awakened mental 
faculties; an objective point, too, that lay 
in the direction of the least resistance, for he 
was naturally of a mechanical turn of mind. 
Should he succeed in inventing something 
of value, it would require intelligent effort 
and some money to bring the invention into 
use. Here he could enlist Philip’s assistance 
and have him share with him the avails of 
the invention. And so, from a purely worldly 
point of view, Philip’s experiment would be 
justified. 

This idea once conceived took possession 
of Waters and became to him a controlling 
purpose. What success he met with belongs 
to a subsequent chapter of this narrative. 

93 


CHAPTER XII 


A Meeting of the Union 

“Your card, sir,” demanded brusquely a 
short, stocky man of Philip one day as he was 
sitting in the mill resting, after having finished 
with one of the furnaces. 

“My card.^ What do you mean?” asked 
Philip in surprise. 

“Your workman’s union card,” said the 
man. “This is a union mill, and all work- 
men should have their cards showing them 
to be in good standing in the union. I am 
the business agent of the union, and it is my duty 
to look after this matter. Here is my card.” 

Philip took the card and read : 

Isaac H. Battles, 

Business Agent, Local Union No. 45, 
Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel 
Workers. 

“H’m! Well, I have no card, Mr. Battles, 
as I am not a member of the union. My 
name is Middleton. You’ve heard how I 
happen to be here at work, haven’t you ?” 

^‘Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Middleton, 

94 


A Meeting of the Union 

and how you came to be working here. 
That may make a difference, and it may not. 
As I said before, this is a union mill, and 
only union men are supposed to be employed 
in it. The circumstances of your case are 
rather peculiar, and I shall, therefore, take 
no responsibility in the matter myself, but 
refer it to the union at the next meeting.” 

So saying, the man made an entry in his 
memorandum-book, bowed curtly to Philip, 
and left him to ponder upon a new phase of 
the situation. 

In calling upon Philip, Mr. Battles had 
not acted upon his own initiative. Mr. Hart- 
land had put a flea in that gentleman’s ear 
which had found congenial lodgment in his 
suflSciently ample auricular appendage. For 
reasons already stated, Mr. Hartland looked 
with disfavor upon Philip’s continuing his 
mill work. In his eyes it could lead to 
nothing but trouble. Already, in fact, Philip 
had used his influence in securing certain 
betterments in the mill which had added to 
the convenience and comfort of the men. 
Small and perhaps insignificant as these 
were, in themselves, they showed the probable 
drift and effect of Philip’s close touch with 
conditions in the mill, and foreshadowed, in 

95 


A Captain of Industry 

Mr. Hartland’s mind, other and more radical 
innovations which, from his point of view, 
would be utterly subversive of the proper 
management of the mills. 

Not succeeding by his expostulations with 
Mr. Middleton in getting Philip drawn off 
from the mill work, Mr. Hartland hit upon 
other means by which he thought to accom- 
plish his purpose. 

A strong local union among the mill workers 
— Shaving a close affiliation with the national 
organization of mill workers — ^with a view 
to ultimate control of the conditions of employ- 
ment in the mills, had for some time oeen 
directing its energies toward unionizing the 
mills — bringing all the mill workmen into the 
union. This had now been virtually accom- 
plished — generally through the voluntary com- 
pliance of the workmen, although sometimes 
through various methods of coercion that were 
used against recalcitrants. So that it was now 
a recognized rule that only union men should 
be tolerated in the mills. 

It is needless to say that Mr. Hartland 
had no sympathy with the union, and what- 
ever concessions had been made to it by the 
company in the several clashes which had 
occurred between the union and the company, 

96 


A Meeting of the Union 

had been involuntary so far as he was con- 
cerned. But he now thought he could use 
the union to further his own purposes. Philip’s 
case was a technical violation of the rule as 
to non-union men, and Mr. Hartland pro- 
ceeded quietly to set the union by the ears 
about it. 

Meeting Mr. Battles on the street one day, 
he said to him : 

“Well, I see you are letting down the bars 
a little in the mill as to non-union men.” 

“How so?'' asked Battles, pricking up his 
ears. 

“Young Middleton isn’t a member of the 
union, is he.?” said Mr. Hartland, his lips 
parting slightly with one of his peculiar, 
covert smiles. 

“No, he isn’t,” replied Battles with a short 
laugh. “That may be letting down the bars. 
I hadn’t thought of that, and I don’t suppose 
any of the men have.” 

“Perhaps not,” said Mr. Hartland; “but 
it’s funny you haven’t. You fellows are such 
sticklers for union men in the mills that I 
have been surprised that a committee hasn’t 
waited on the company before this to make 
a protest against Middleton’s working there. 
Well, it’s no affair of mine,” he added 

97 


A Captain of Industry 

carelessly, and went on his way up the street. 

But he felt confident that he had hooked 
his fish. 

And he had. Battles had taken the bait 
greedily. 

“ W%, it’s as plain as a pikestaff,” he said 
to himself after a little thought. “I wonder 
it didn’t occur to me before.’^ 

Anyone who knew Mr. Battles might well 
have wondered at this, also. He was not a 
man to minimize the importance and responsi- 
bility of his position as business agent of 
the mill workers’ union. Pretty much of a 
martinet in the exercise of his authority, he 
was given to straining out the gnat — with- 
out, however (to do him justice), going to the 
other extreme of swallowing the camel. It 
tickled his vanity, also, to now have an 
opportunity to display his authority in the 
presence of a person of such importance as 
the son of the company’s president. 

His call upon Philip in the mill was for the 
purpose of making a case for presentation 
to the union. Having convinced himself, 
without much difficulty, that Philip’s case was 
a violation of the union rule as to the employ- 
ment of men in the mills, he proceeded to 
disseminate his views among the workmen. 

98 


A Meeting of the Union 

Nor did Mr. Hartland stop with Battles. 
He inoculated a few of the other leading 
spirits in the union with the same virus; but 
in such a way as to draw no attention to 
himself, or leave a suspicion that he had any 
motive or interest in the matter one way or 
the other. So that by the time the union 
met a considerable sentiment had been aroused 
unfavorable to Philip’s longer working in the 
mills. 

Regular meetings of the union were held 
twice a month on the top floor of one of the 
large business blocks in town. On this night 
the prospect of a sensational feature in the 
proceedings brought out an attendance that 
completely fllled the spacious hall. There 
was a hush of expectancy when Mr. Battles, 
in the regular order, arose to make his report. 

“Mr. President,” he said, bowing ceremo- 
niously to the chairman and then casting a 
sweeping and consequential look over the 
assembly, “it becomes my duty as business 
agent of the union to report to the union an 
infraction, or at all events, what I consider 
an infraction, of the rule as to the employment 
of men in the mills. There is at present at 
work in the mills during a portion of the day 
a man without a union card. The chair 

99 


A Captain of Industry 

and members of the union present doubtless 
know to whom I have reference. It is Philip 
Middleton, the son of the president of the 
mill company, who, in the pursuit of a singular 
notion of his own, takes the place of one of the 
rollers in the mills for half the afternoon of 
each day. Without in any way desiring to 
criticize or disparage that young man’s motives 
or purposes in doing what he does, I must, 
having the interests of the union at heart, 
and in the performance of my duty as its 
business agent, report his case as a violation 
of our established rule. I do not think that 
it would have been beyond the scope of my 
authority as business agent to have myself 
notified Mr. Middleton to either get a union 
card or stop working in the mill. But, as I 
said to him, the circumstances of his case 
were so peculiar that I would take no respon- 
sibility in the matter, but would refer it to 
the union. The circumstances are, indeed, 
peculiar, and both on this account and because 
of the relations which this gentleman sustains 
to the company, it has seemed to me that 
any action taken in the matter should be on 
motion of the union and with the weight of 
its sanction. I do now, therefore, refer the 
matter to the union for its action; but, believ- 

100 


A Meeting of the Union 

ing, as I do, that notwithstanding the peculiar 
circumstances, the case presents a plain viola- 
tion of the rule that only union men should 
be permitted to work in the mills, I must 
couple my report with the recommendation 
that we notify Mr. Middleton that he must 
join the union if he wishes to continue his 
work in the mills.” 

A confused murmur of mingled assent and 
dissent succeeded Mr. Battles’s report. The 
president rapped for order. 

“This is an important matter,” he said, 
“and may be fraught with serious and far- 
reaching consequences to the union. The 
chair hopes, therefore, that there will be a 
general and informal discussion of the matter 
before any definite action is taken in regard 
to it.” 

Tom Ten wick took the floor. Tom was a 
regular attendant upon the meetings of the 
union, and a frequent, if not always a brilliant 
speaker. He sought to dignify his appearance 
on these occasions by a long frock coat which 
he wore buttoned up close to his throat and 
the skirts of which he was noticeably careful 
to draw aside when he sat down. In the 
frequently heated discussions of the union it 
was amusing to see Tom jump up repeatedly, 

101 


A Captain of Industry 

hurl forth a few words pertinent or im- 
pertinent to the subject under discussion, 
and then throw his hands behind him, grasp 
his coat-tails, throw them out at right angles 
to his person and settle into his seat, not 
unlike a bird that spreads its wings in a descent 
from a lofty perch. 

Tom had been very much wrought up over 
the movement directed toward the coercion 
of Philip. In the short time that Philip had 
worked with him at the rolls Tom had become 
very much attached to him. He looked 
forward each day to his coming with pleasur- 
able anticipation; for while Philip did not 
actually shorten the hours of labor for him 
as for Waters, he none the less shortened 
them, for the afternoon hours slipped by 
rapidly when he was there. An atmosphere 
of cheer, of hope and of good-will seemed 
to be diffused, and Tom’s simple, open and 
generous nature responded readily to the 
influence. 

Were these pleasant relations to be now 
disturbed by a few busybodies who would 

[ )ush a salutary rule to tyrannous and illogical 
engths ? Tom’s choler rose steadily while 
Battles was speaking. He hardly waited for 
the president to finish his announcement 

102 


A Meeting of the Union 

before he was on his feet. Directing a 
withering look at Battles — ^which, however, 
went wide of its mark, owing to the obliquity 
of Tom’s vision — he launched forth in a 
vehement harangue that was not altogether 
pointless although leaving considerable to be 
desired in the way of rhetorical finish. 

“What foolishness is this here!” he cried 
in a shrill voice which feeling had pitched 
into a high key. “Ain’t our business agent 
got enough to do without goin’ round spyin’ 
out mares’ nests ? And ham’t we got notnin’ 
better to do than to run after ’im like a lot 
o’ chickens after a scratchin’ hen.^^” 

Mr. Battles here rose to object to such 
personal remarks. 

“Don’t be personal in your remarks, Mr. 
Tenwick,” cautioned the president, repressing 
a disposition to smile. 

“Well, I don’t want to hurt no feelin’s,” 
continued Tom with a look toward Battles 
which very much belied his words, “but if 
it comes to bein’ personal, ain’t this whole 
business personal ? Somebody’s at the bot- 
tom o’ this thing that’s got a dull ax he 
wants to grind; for there ain’t no sense in it. 
What do we want men to join the union fur.'^ 
Ain’t it so’s we won’t get a lot o’ men in the 

103 


A Captain of Industry 

mills who won’t act with us, an’ who’ll be 
cuttin’ under us on wages an’ drivin’ us out 
o’ work? Is Philip Middleton goin’ to do 
that? Yes, he is drivin’ one of our men out 
o’ work, but who’s got any objection to the 
way he’s doin’ it? He’s short’nin’ his work 
without short’nin’ his pay. Is that goin’ 
to hurt the union any ? I wish a lot more o’ 
those young fellers in the office would take 
the same kind of a notion into their heads. 
Would anybody be hurt by it? An’ what 
difference would it make whether they joined 
the union or not ? I wouldn’t have no objec- 
tion to their joinin’ if they wanted to. I 
certainly ain’t got no objection to Mr. Middle- 
ton’s joinin’ the union if he wants to. I 
wish he would. But I don’t want to see him 
hauled in with a halter. 

“ Furthermore, and what’s more and besides 
all that,” continued Tom, falling into a 
tautologous verbiage that must have been 
suggested to him by the numerous legal papers 
which had been served upon him — “ ain’t 
Philip Middleton already, and long since and 
before this, legally, lawfully and rightly a 
member of this union ? 

“I say,” he reiterated, evidently enamoured 
of these sonorous, if somewhat synonymous 

104 


A Meeting of the Union 

adverbs, “ legally, lawfully, and rightly Philip 
Middleton is now, and for some time past 
has been a member of this union.” 

After making this startling statement Tom 
made a pause and slowly turned his face about 
the room: an oratorical device which at times 
is very effective, but to which it is exceedingly 
dangerous for a cross-eyed man to have 
recourse. 

A suppressed but quite audible titter came 
up from various parts of the hall. Tom, 
however, did not regard this as in any way 
personal, but supposed it to have been drawn 
out by his novel proposition. 

“Mebbe that does sound funny,” he said; 
“ but ’tain’t no funnier ’an ’tis truer. 

“Fur,” he continued, tipping his head 
slightly to one side and assuming an argu- 
mentative attitude, “don’t Philip Middleton 
only take John Waters’s place in the mill ? 
Ain’t his time Waters’s time.^ Then ain’t 
he John Waters while he’s in the mill ? An’ 
ain’t John Waters a member of the union in 

f ood standin’ ? Now, if Philip Middleton is 
ohn Waters in the mill, then Waters is him 
in the union, and virsy visy as you might 
say. Well then, why should we call on 
Philip Middleton to join the union when 

105 


A Captain of Indnstry 

legally, lawfully and rightly, an’ to all intents 
and purposes — he bein’ Waters in the mill 
and Waters him in the union — he is already, 
has been for a long time, and will continue 
to be a member of the union — eh ?” 

With this interrogation uttered in crescendo 
and with an explosive and piercing climax, 
Tom carefully gathered in his coat-tails and 
sat down. 

Tom, however, had the misfortune never 
to be taken seriously in the union meetings; 
and it is feared that whatever force there 
was in his argument on this occasion was 
more than neutralized by the general merri- 
ment he had aroused in his listeners. 

Certainly the speaker who followed Tom 
did not appear to have been very much 
influenced by his speech. This man, Aaron 
Gilks by name, was a large, powerfully 
built man, towering head and shoulders above 
his fellows, a veritable Titan in appearance 
as he was in many of his characteristics. 
His big head sat firmly upon massive shoulders 
and was fittingly capped by a mass of bushy, 
iron-gray hair that showed little of the hair- 
dresser’s art. The great square jaws were 
the most noticeable features of his face, 
although all the features were large and in 
106 


A Meeting of the Union 

their rugged contour showed not unlike the 
first rough chiseling of the sculptor before he 
has reduced and polished the face of his 
statue to lines of artistic finish. 

Gilks was one of the puddlers in the mill. 
He was not only a good workman, but, what 
was more rare, a workman who had taken 
to himself the injunction of the Apostle Paul 
to Timothy — he had given attendance to 
reading. Unfortunately, his reading had been 
pretty much along one line — the socialistic — 
and this is always dangerous. It had made 
him remarkably well-informed upon socio- 
logical questions, but rather narrow, intolerant 
and uncharitable. He had imbibed the ideas 
with little of the spirit of leading socialist 
writers. He saw society divided into two 
hostile camps, the oppressed and the oppres- 
sors, the exploited and the exploiters, those 
who sow where they do not reap, and those 
who reap where they have not sown. Con- 
vinced of the inequity and iniquity of the 
existing social order he looked for no escape 
or relief for the oppressed classes in any 
gradual process of reform. Not by a slow 
social evolution, but by revolution were they 
to come into their own. To this end federa- 
tion among the laboring classes was the duty 

107 


A Captain of Industry 


of the hour, that they might oppose a formid- 
able solidarity against their oppressors in the 
day of the inevitable and irrepressible con- 
flict. He could see no identity of interest 
between labor and capital, and therefore in 
his scheme conciliation and forbearance had 
no place. Rather, the spirit militant was to 
be aroused and encouraged, for it was a life- 
and-death struggle, in which quarter should 
neither be asked nor given. 

Bold and fearless in the 



views, and dogged and 


adherence to them, Gilks presented that com- 
pound of devotion and fanaticism which is 
the seed of martyrs. 

Naturally, he wielded a great influence in 
the union, and any position that he might 
take upon a question before it, was sure to 
have the support of a large following. When, 
therefore, he now rose to speak, the general 
levity which Ten wick had excited gave way 
to an attitude of serious attention. 

“One would think,” he said, “that our 
friend Tenwick was a lawyer arguing a case 
in court. He’s been splitting some very fine 
hairs — ^trying to make us believe that black’s 
white; that two and two make five. But I 
hope that the other members of the union 


108 


A Meeting of the Union 

won’t take leave of their common sense as 
Ten wick has. I hope the rest of us still 
believe that two and two make four in spite 
of what Mr. Tenwick has said, or what 
anybody may say, to dispute that mathemat- 
ical proposition. 

“Now, Mr. President,” continued Gilks, 
gathering himself together for his argument, 
“we know that Philip Middleton is working 
in the mills, don’t we ? And don’t we know, 
too, that he is not a member of the union? 
Isn’t this enough for us to know to make 
clear the course we ought to take in this 
matter? You know, Mr. President — and all 
the members of the union know — ^what trouble 
we’ve had in making the mill a union mill; 
in keeping men out of it who were not willing 
to join the union. Now, let’s keep it a union 
mill. We can’t do this if we allow any 
exceptions to our rule; if we waive it in favor 
of any person working in the mills, no matter 
who he is or what the circumstances may be 
under which he is working.” 

Philip Middleton’s working in the mills in 
the way he did — Gilks went on to say — 
might seem to be a matter of little conse- 
quence, and one about which the union should 
not concern itself. But it was not a small 

109 


A Captain of Industry 

matter if they looked below the surface of 
it. As the chair had said, it was a matter 
that was fraught with grave consequences 
to the union. It was of much greater conse- 
quence than if Philip Middleton had been 
an ordinary non-union workman. For who 
was this young man ? He was the son of the 

{ )resident of the company. Was the president 
riendly to the union Must he not see in 
the growth and strength of the union a menace 
to the selfish and oppressive policy which 
was taxing the workmen to swell the com- 
pany’s dividends ? Would his son, whose 
interests were those of his father, be any 
the more friendly to them ? Would he not be 
a spy in their camp, acquainting himself with 
their plans and purposes that he might 
frustrate them, and using his influence to 
spread sedition and discontent among the 
members of the union, and thus to undermine 
and weaken, and perhaps eventually destroy, 
the union? He might, perhaps, be making 
it easier for one of their men, and in this 
way appear to be benefiting them. But he 
(Gilks) feared these Greeks bearing gifts. 
The gift might be in the outstretched hand 
but a dagger was in the hand they did not see. 
This young man’s interests were not their 
110 


A Meeting of the Union 

interests. His friends were not their friends. 
There was a great gulf stretching between 
them, and it could not be spanned by any 
protestations of friendship or by any such 
play-work as young Middleton was now 
engaged in. 

And he wished to say to John Waters, too, 
that this thing would do him no good in the 
end. This was only a whim of Middleton’s, 
and, even if let alone, he would keep it up only 
so long as it suited his humor, and no longer. 
Then he would quit, and Waters would have 
to go back to the old grind, and would find 
it harder than before because he had felt 
what it was to be released from it. Waters 
was one of themselves. He belonged to the 
great army of labor, and no permanent good 
could come to him that did not come to the 
mass of which he was a part. They must 
rise or sink together. There was nothing in 
this affair but what was temporal^, sporadic 
and passing. It had come and it would go 
like a bubble on the water, leaving no effect 
or trace behind it. The whole present indus- 
trial system was rotten to the core, and it 
could not be cured by any mere local applica- 
tion. A specific was needed. The history 
of the world showed that political serfdom 

in 


A Captain of Industry 

had never been cured except by political 
revolution, and the industrial serfdom of 
to-day would not be cured except by an 
industrial revolution. He saw no other way, 
and he looked for no other way. Laboring 
men throughout the country must stand 
together and work together in order that they 
might finally fight together to free themselves 
from the industrial slavery in which they were 
now held. 

And they must not only know their friends, 
but they must recognize their enemies. They 
who were not for them were against them. 
A workman who was not in the union was an 
enemy to the union, aye, an enemy to labor; 
for labor must be united in order to accom- 
plish anything. They wanted no camp-fol- 
lowers or hangers-on or dead-weights in their 
campaign. Certainly they wanted no inter- 
lopers or spies. He had no idea that young 
Middleton would care to join the union, and 
therefore they should lose no time in giving 
him to understand that he was not wanted 
in the mills. Eternal vigilance was the price 
of liberty; and in no way could they better 
exercise vigilance than in keeping inviolate 
the rule which they had made the very corner- 
stone of their organization and which was 

U% 


A Meeting of the Union 

essential to its safety and its growth. Let 
their watchword ever be, a union mill for 
union men. 

Gilks’s speech had evidently made a decided 
impression, for it was greeted with general 
applause, and several other speakers followed 
in the same vein. Many of the men, however, 
were not inclined to take such extreme views. 
During the time Philip had been working in 
the mill he had made the personal acquaint- 
ance of quite a number of the workmen, and 
had won their friendship and confidence. 
While all of these workmen were in sympathy 
with the general purposes of the union, they 
did not regard Philip’s presence in the mills 
as at all likely to defeat these purposes, and 
so were not disposed to have the union inter- 
fere with him. This feeling found expression 
finally in repeated calls for John Waters to 
take the floor. 

“Waters!” “John Waters!” “Let’s hear 
Waters!” came up from various parts of the 
hall. 

Waters had sat listening to the speeches 
with mixed emotions. Anger and resentment 
at the disposition to interfere with Philip 
which was manifested struggled with another 
feeling more personal to himself. 

113 


A Captain of Indmiry 

Who has not had his Mount Pisgahs of 
exaltation, when, forgetting the things which 
are behind and below, he has gazed over into 
a Promised Land of plenty and feasted his 
eyes upon its rich and fruitful fields; when 
for a time he has been lifted above the ordinary 
experiences of life into a rarer atmosphere 
of hope and of joy and of aspiration ? 

Many such moments had Waters exper- 
ienced since Philip came to relieve him in 
the mill. But now, as he listened to Gilks’s 
speech, it seemed as if he were being brought 
clown from the heights and once more meeting 
face to face the hard realities of his previous 
life; and it came as a disagreeable and benumb- 
ing shock proportioned in its severity to the 
ecstasy to which he had been transported by 
his beatific visions. Was, then, this new life 
which he had been living only a dream that 
must pass, a mere episode with no vital 
relation to the course of his destinj^ ? Held 
down by the gravity of the mass of his fellows, 
was it futile for him to try to raise himself 
above the general level? 

Well, it might be so; and yet Waters knew 
that he would never be quite the same man 
that he was before, even if he should be 
compelled to return to the former conditions 

114 


A Meeting of the Union 

of labor. He had had his mount of trans- 
figuration, and its irradiating and uplifting 
influence was not to leave him amid the 
storm and stress of coming days. 

It was seldom that Waters spoke in the 
meetings of the union. He had not the 
gift of public speech. Words that fell so 
glibly from the lips of many of the members 
of the union came haltingly and uncertainly 
to his own. So that as he now reluctantly 
rose to speak in response to the urgent calls, 
it was with fear and trembling and with little 
expectation of stemming the tide that seemed 
setting to the overwhelming of his hopes and 
prospects. Falteringly, hesitatingly he began, 
making a painful effort to express himself in 
broken, disjointed and incoherent sentences 
which betokened all too plainly that mental 
paralysis which seizes upon one not accus- 
tomed to think upon his feet. A collapse 
seemed imminent. 

But now a strange thing happened. 

Who has not, either in his own experience 
or in observation of others, become conscious 
of such a thing as inspirational speaking, 
when words, thoughts, fine phrasings, apt 
illustration come we know not how or whence; 
when the speaker seems but the instrument, 

115 


A Captain of Industry 


the medium, through which a power external 
to himself finds expression ? 

But not a lawless intervention is this. 
The instrument must be attuned for the 
rendering of this rare music. The divine 
aflSatus comes only to him who has allied 
himself to the higher powers by his earnest 
longings and high aspirations. The pente- 
costal tongues of fire touch not the tongue of 
hate, of envy, of malice and uncharitable- 
ness, but come to the help of struggling love 
and good-will. 

As John Waters groped along blindly, 
helplessly, with heart full, but with leaden 
tongue to give forth its surcharge; when he 
would have sunk into his seat in utter con- 
fusion, he suddenly felt an infusion of calm 
and impelling strength. The burden of it all 
seemed to be lifted from him. His tongue 
was loosed, and he now spoke easily. Words 
came unbidden to his ’ irranged them- 



selves into sentences 


sequence and 


compelling cogency. With ease of speech 
came ease of manner, and with confidence 
came courage. Abandoning himself com- 
pletely to the impulse which was upon him 
he was carried along by a resistless current of 
thought and speech which seemed not to have 


116 


A Meeting of the Union 

origin in himself, but of which he was only 
the mouthpiece. 

The members of the union listened in 
surprise, which was not unmixed with a kind 
of awe, as Waters, with flashing eye, animated 
face and forceful gesture now raised his voice 
in passionate invective against the proposed 
interference with Philip, and, indeed, against 
the whole policy of coercion by which the union 
sought to augment its power. No real and 
lasting good could come to the union through 
compulsory membership. If spies and secret 
enemies were to be feared, should they not 
rather be looked for among those who were 
compelled to join the union against their free 
consent than among those outside the union 
with no part in its councils Would they 
rear an edifice of industrial freedom upon a 
foundation of denial of liberty to the in- 
dividual ? Should not membership in the 
union be held out as a privilege to be sought 
rather than as a duty to be enforced? If a 
duty did rest upon all workmen regularly 
employed in the mills to join the union in 
order that the general good of the workers 
might be advanced by co-operative action, 
should such a duty be deemed to rest upon 
Philip Middleton under the circumstances 

117 


A Captain of Industry 

of his employment? And could any good 
come to the union by attempting coercion in 
his case ? Would they not be wounding 
themselves with their own weapons? Con- 
nected as Philip was with the company, would 
not such a course simply result m widening 
the breach between the workmen and the 
company when the real good of both workers 
and the company depended upon its being 
lessened ? When, now, such an important 
step had been taken by the president’s son, 
which made for a closer relation, a better 
understanding between the company and its 
workmen, would they turn their faces against 
the light? Would they fire upon this nag of 
truce? Would they stir up antagonism and 
war in face of these overtures of peace ? 
Would they make an enemy of a man who 
was disposed to be a friend ? Would they stop 
his working with them in the mill to have 
him work against them in the office? They 
might, indeed, drive him from the mill, but 
could they force him to join the union? He 
wondered if there was any member of the 
union so foolish as to think that Philip Middle- 
ton would join the union under compulsion? 
If any one did entertain such a notion he 
certainly did not know the man, 

118 


A Meeting of the Union 

But who, he asked, had once thought to 
invite Philip to join the union; to ask instead 
of demanding? What he would most cer- 
tainly resent and refuse which came in the 
guise of force he might meet favorably if 
presented to him in a spirit of courtesy and 
good-will; if he were asked to join the union 
not simply in compliance with a hard-and- 
fast rule of the union, but that the union 
might have the benefit of his fellowship and 
of his counsels. Membership offered and 
accepted on such a basis as this would mean 
much to the union, for not only would they 
have the benefit of Philip’s counsels but he 
would stand as an intermediary between the 
company, and the union, to effect through 
conciliation what had not always been at- 
tained by costly strife. 

In such a strain as this did Waters speak. 
Never before had such a speech been made 
at any meeting of the union, and, it may be 
said in passing. Waters never made another 
like it. He sat down exhausted, hardly 
knowing what he had said, nor knowing at 
all how he had managed to say it. 

The speech brought about a complete 
revulsion of feeling in the union. One of the 
members who, following Mr. Gilks, had 

119 


A Captain of Industry 

spoken in support of the position taken hy 
that bellicose individual, now arose and said: 

“ Mr. President, I guess we are getting the 
cart before the horse in this matter, and I 
therefore move that a committee be appointed 
by the chair to wait upon Philip Middleton 
and on behalf of the union extend to him a 
cordial invitation to join the union and to 
express the pleasure it would give us to have 
him do so. I also suggest that the committee 
so appointed be instructed to act, and report 
to us to-night, if possible, before we adjourn.” 

Tom Ten wick jumped up and hastily 
seconded the motion, and in his excitement 
sat down on his coat-tails. He quickly raised 
himself, however, and rescued them from 
their perilous predicament. 

The motion was enthusiastically adopted 
without debate. John Waters, the mover of 
the motion, and one other member of the 
union were appointed as the committee, and 
they at once left the hall to execute their 
commission. 

Waters had previously arranged with Philip 
to report to him after the meeting, and at a 
certain place, the action that the union 
should take touching himself. 

The committee were not absent, therefore, 

120 


A Meeting of the Union 

more than twenty minutes. But they returned 
not alone. Philip came with them. Waters’s 
face was radiant, and told as plainly as the 
formal report of the committee that Philip 
had accepted the invitation extended by the 
committee on behalf of the union, and was 
prepared to join the union. 

Cheer after cheer greeted this announce- 
ment. Tom Tenwick led the cheering, 
jumping up and sitting down in quick suc- 
cession, now utterly forgetful of his coat- 
tails, sitting down on them with the most 
reckless abandon. 

On motion the rules were suspended and 
Philip was elected to membership in the 
union by acclamation, not even Gilks voting 
in the negative. 

In response to the general demand, Philip 
addressed the union briefly, thanking the 
members for the courtesy they had shown 
him in the invitation which had been extended, 
and in the unanimous vote by which he had 
been elected to membership in their body. 
He trusted that he should find nothing incon- 
sistent in his membership in the union and 
his relation to the company; that the relations 
between the company and the workmen as 
represented in the union might ever be 

121 


A Captain of Industry 

cordial and friendly, and characterized by 
that candor, fairness and forbearance which 
were so necessary to a mutual understanding 
and an advantageous co-operation. Certainly 
he should do all in his power to promote and 
cement such relations. Entering the mill as 
an experiment quite personal to himself, 
he was not blind to the opportunity which 
seemed to grow out naturally from the relation- 
ship which he had assumed — an opportunity 
for service both to the men in the mill and to 
the company. Indeed, that opportunity now 
afforded him a greater incentive and a more 
plausible motive for continuing his work in 
the mill than did the original reason for 
entering upon it. It would hardly be fitting 
at this time to outline any policy, if, indeed, 
he had any, or to make any promises for the 
future, as he did not want his performance 
to lag behind his promise; but he sincerely 
hoped to justify the vote of confidence which 
they had given him, and that he himself should 
never have occasion to regret the step that 
he had taken. 

Philip’s remarks were warmly received, and 
at their close the union adjourned with three 
cheers for Philip Middleton and John Waters. 

Aaron Gilks elbowed his way through the 

122 


A Meeting of the Union 

crowd that surrounded Philip after the 
adjournment, and extending his hand to him 
said: 

“I give you the right hand of fellowship, 
young man, but mark my word, sir, the time 
will come when you will either have to quit 
the union or the company.” 

“ Thank you for your greeting,” said Philip, 
smiling, and for the rest, I hope you will 
prove a false prophet.” 

But one needed to be neither a prophet 
nor the son of a prophet to make a plausible 
forecast of trouble to Philip from the step 
he had just taken. 


123 


CHAPTER XIII 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

Less than a month had elapsed since the 
visit of Mr. Elridge and his daughter to 
Ellerton, when Philip made a short visit to 
St. Louis. A personal conference with Mr. 
Elridge relative to the steel-rail contract 
that had been closed with his company 
seemed desirable, and Philip persuaded his 
father that he could attend to the matter. 

It is hardly likely that Philip would have 
cared particularly about transacting this busi- 
ness on behalf of the Ellerton company had 
he not had some business in St. Louis to 
attend to on his own account. What this 
personal business was might have been sus- 
pected from the alacrity with which he 
accepted Mr. Elridge’s invitation to dinner 
at his house, and from his subsequent sedulous 
attentions to his daughter. 

On his return to Ellerton it was, of course, 
incumbent upon him to write to Miss Elridge 
to advise her of his safe arrival home and to 
acknowledge his indebtedness for her con- 

124 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

tribution to the pleasure of his visit. He 
endeavored to make not too pointed his 
request for an answer to his letter, but suflSc- 
iently explicit to have warranted a charge 
of ungraciousness on the part of Miss Elridge 
had she neglected to comply with it. 

And so the epistolary ball was started 
rolling, gathering volume and momentum 
with its every revolution. 

It would be rude to pry into the delightful 
privacies of this correspondence. Most of it 
was of a character to be interesting only to 
the parties immediately concerned, and well 
illustrated Victor Hugo’s aphorism that love 
is an opera, in which the libretto is nothing. 

One of Miss Elridge’s letters, however, 
struck a serious note, and in its contents was 
of a character sufficiently unusual to warrant 
publication. This letter ran as follows: 

Dear Mr. Middleton: — 

I seem to have piqued your curiosity by 
saying in my last letter that I might have 
something of interest to tell you the next time 
I wrote. The matter to which I had reference 
seems now to be ripe for telling, and I am 
going to satisfy your curiosity. 

Do you recall my last words to you when 
we parted on the train at Ellerton ? Of 

125 


A Captain of Industry 

course, you did not take them seriously or 
expect to hear of their realization in fact. 
And yet, in sober fact they have been realized. 

Yes — I, Miss Katherine Elridge, may now 
frequently be found, from two or three until 
five o’clock in the afternoon, at the offices of 
the Iron Mountain Railway Company, busy 
as a bee, sorting and filing papers, checking 
and tabulating figures, working at the type- 
writer — in the use of which instrument I am 
becoming quite expert — and doing various 
other things pertaining to the office business; 
while the girl who ordinarily does this work 
has the opportunity to take my role — ^that 
of lady of leisure. 

Are you surprised.? You should not be 
unpleasantly so; for I am but putting your 
own theory to a practical test. 

In doing what I have done I have not 
acted upon sudden impulse, but only after 
mature consideration and reflection. The 
genesis of my purpose dates from my visit 
to Ellerton. As the train whirled us on our 
way to Chicago, after leaving you, I naturally 
fell to thinking about the somewhat unusual 
incident which marked our visit to Ellerton, 
and about your very interesting dissertation 
on the obligations of young men and women 

126 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

of leisure. I am not sure that you did not 
put a little too much color into your picture 
of the life of the average society woman; but 
the picture was, perhaps, fairly representative. 
I myself might well have sat for it. My life 
did seem to lack a serious purpose. Had it, 
indeed, any purpose at all, I asked myself, 
beyond the continuing one of devising ways 
and means for pleasure and diversion? How 
fearfully unsatisfying I had oft^n felt it to be! 
Surely I ought to have something more to 
exercise my faculties upon than the trivialities 
which mostly engaged them. The more I 
thought about your suggestion the more 
seriously I thought of it. I saw an opportun- 
ity to put your theory into practice right in 
my father’s offices, where a number of girls 
were employed, any one of whom would, 
without doubt, be glad to have a portion of 
the time I was so prodigal of. 

I was confirmed in my purpose after your 
visit here, and I had learned that you were 
still enthusiastic over your experiment and 
more than satisfied with its results. 

So I finally broached the subject to father. 
Of course he laughed at me. When he found 
me serious about it, he demurred, opposing 
many objections based upon business reasons 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

and reasons personal. I finally overcame 
them, however, and he let me have my own 
way, as he usually does. 

You may imagine I had little difficulty in 
making an arrangement with one of the girls 
in the office whereby I was to run in any 
afternoon and take her work and she was 
to run away and play, but without any diminu- 
tion of her monthly stipend. 

Well, for the past six weeks I have been a 
quite regular attendant at the office in the 
afternoon, and, so far as I am personally 
concerned, I am ready to say, without reserva- 
tion, that the experiment has fully justified 
itself. I cannot tell you what happiness has 
come to me from the feeling that I am doing 
something useful ; that all my time is not given 
over to the frivolous and ephemeral nothings 
of society life. 

Another source of happiness, and not the 
least, either, is the fact that I now see more 
of the very best man in all the world — my 
father. Before I began coming to the office 
I saw so little of him. He was engrossed 
with his business during the day, and I with 
my social engagements in the evening. We 
are now together most of the time that I am 
at the office, and usually go home together 

128 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

at night. Really, we have become quite 
chummy. He now seems as pleased to have 
me come to the office as does the girl whom I 
relieve. I have become familiar with the 
work, also, and sufficiently proficient in the 
performance of it ( if I may credit the assur- 
ances of my business superiors) so that the 
efficiency of the company^ s office service does 
not suffer by my connection with it. 

I need not tell you that this thing has 
created somewhat of a sensation in society 
circles here, and has been made the subject 
of varied comment. When I made up my 
mind to do what I have done I certainly was 
not blind to the probability of unfavorable 
criticism. Nor has that been spared me. 
This, however, has not disturbed me so much 
as I have been gratified to learn that two or 
three other young women of leisure have 
made tentative efforts in the same direction. 
Who knows perhaps I have started the fad 
that you suggested. I hope not a fad, how- 
ever, for fads are short-lived. But in the 
interest of my many weary sisters who so often 
yawn through the day over things that profit 
little, I should like to see my course meet 
with general approval and adoption. A little 
serious work would give a zest to pleasures 

129 


A Captain of Industry 

that otherwise pall through superabundance. 
If our society women would but take an 
occasional matinee at some place of business, 
they would better enjoy those at the theatre. 

besides, should not every woman have 
some acquaintance with practical, everyday 
a'ffairs ? Should she not know something 
about the great business and industrial move- 
ments of the day — ^yes, and exercise an 
intelligent influence in shaping them.^^ 

Oh, I know this is decidedly heterodox 
from the viewpoint of lordly man — the average 
man at least — who will never dissociate woman 
from the distaff, and limits her sphere of 
activity within the four walls of the home. 
Of course, no right-thinking woman will 
minimize the importance of home duties. 
But if you confine a woman to these common- 

E lace duties, take care that you do not make 
er commonplace also. Is not woman a 
soul, as man is, with like capacity for growth 
and development.? Then should she be shut 
in — deprived of the experiences that minister 
to growth ? Surely not. Her horizon should 
be as wide as the world. She should have 
her hand on the pulse of the times, feeling its 
pulsations and vibrating in sympathy with 
them. 


130 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

I sometimes look back enviously to the days 
of the society woman’s supremacy in France; 
when her salons were frequented by states- 
men, writers, scholars, artists — ^the intellectual 
society of the time; when she was not only in 
touch with the great movements of the day, 
but when they felt her guiding and directing 
hand. This must have been to live and to 
be alive! What dignity, poise and purpose 
in such a life! To feel oneself moving with 
the current of things, not idly looking on, 
an uninformed spectator. 

It is a far cry, in character as well as in 
time, from these Paris salons to the fashion- 
able drawing-rooms of to-day. All the men 
of serious purpose seem to have left them, and 
their most persistent frequenters are the 
tiresome chatterboxes whose heads are as 
light as their purses are heavy. Few, indeed, 
are the inducements that society life has to 
offer to men of wit, of learning and of affairs. 
What inspiration can there be for them in 
the frivolous hurly-burly of most of its func- 
tions? Its exactions, indeed, are wholly in- 
compatible with all purposeful living. More- 
over, the expense entailed in keeping abreast 
with its demands effectually closes the door 
to those who are unfurnished with the Open 

131 


A Captain of Industry 
Sesame of the dollar. 

But pardon me, Mr. Middleton, for wea:ty- 
ing you with this jeremiad. It was quite 
beside my purpose in writing this letter. One 
who starts to tear down should be prepared 
to build up; and I am sure I have no desire 
to pose as a social reformer. It would be a 
thankless and perhaps gratuitous task to try 
to reform fashionable society. It may not 
need reforming. It may represent, in its 
extravagances and objectionable features, a 
phase of life which if driven from one stage 
would appear upon another. Certainly, 
many, if not the majority, of the devotees at 
fashion’s shrine are so wholly joined to their 
idols that they must be let alone. But there 
are, I am sure, many earnest and sincere 
women in society who, while they join in its 
frivolities, are not apologists for them, but are 
rather constrained by use and custom to live 
a sort of butterfly life which their judgment 
disapproves. To such women I would not 
be averse to going as a missionary to preach 
the saving grace of a little serious work with 
their play; an occasional joining of hands 
with their humbler sisters in the common 
avocations of life; a little first-hand knowledge 
of social, industrial and business conditions, 

132 


Philip Hears from a Fair Disciple 

so that they may effectively work and co-operate 
for their amelioration. A new departure of 
that kind taken by these women would prove 
an excellent antidote for the tedium and 
ennui that so frequently depress them. They 
would not only find themselves eased of most 
of their own life-weariness but would radiate 
a wholesome influence in the circles in which 
they move. It would make for the establish- 
ment of a new fashionable society, a society 
which should recognize higher standards than 
mere purse and pedigree, and which would 
draw people of serious purpose into it by 
reason of its own lofty ideals and worthy 
interests. 

Utopian, this.^^ Many would think so, and 
see in it only the ardor and enthusiasm of a 
new convert. I believe that you, however, 
will give me a more serious and appreciative 
ear, for it is from your precept and example 
that I have taken my inspiration. 

Now write to me and tell me that you 
were not displeased to hear what you have 
heard from a humble disciple who has greatly 
profited by your teaching, and who therefore 
subscribes herself as 

Your obliged friend, 

Katherine Otis Elridge. 

133 


A Captain of Industry 

If Philip was displeased with Miss Elridge’s 
letter, his actions strangely belied it; for he 
read the letter a half-dozen times, and sat up 
until the small hours of the night writing an 
answer to it. 


134 


CHAPTER XIV 


After Two Years 

This history now moves forward two 
years. In thus leaving a hiatus in its records 
it departs from the true historic method. 
Your orthodox historian is nothing if not a 
chronologer, and a lapse in time is as abhor- 
rent to him as a dateless event. Following 
the traditions of his craft he throws a drag- 
net over the period of which he writes and 
brings everything to the surface — some things 
that would better remain in their congenial 
mud at the bottom. Nor is he disturbed by 
the fact that he must thus at times make 
of himself a sort of literary scavenger, for he 
thinks he can always justify himself by the 
plea, “ These things actually happened.” 

The aforesaid orthodox historian has some 
imitators among the novelists, particularly 
in the matter of scavengering. Generally 
speaking, however, novelists are more obedient 
to the law of perspective. Not always will- 
ingly, perhaps, but of necessity compelled 
to be. They have not the historian’s privilege 

135 


A Captain of Industry 

of spreading their lucubrations over a dozen 
volumes, but, if they are solicitous of an 
audience, must contract them into one of 
a comfortable size. Some there are, however, 
who must be rather impatient under such a 
limitation, for they will often spread a duodec- 
imo of matter over a folio of space. 

But lest this last be said of the present 
narrative, let us hurry on with it, nor stop 
longer to forge missiles that may be hurled 
at our own vulnerable person. 

To proceed, then. The mills had pros- 
pered. That is to say, the stockholders had. 
Even Mr. Munson with his lonely two shares 
of stock felt the swell of this wave of pros- 
perity, and as he pocketed an unusually 
generous dividend, was more than ever dis- 
posed to assert a proprietary interest in the 
mills. 

“Yes, weVe made a lot o’ money in the 
last two years,” he said in response to an 
inquiry about the mills. “ Those big railroad 
contracts helped us immensely. We’re fig- 
uring on some others now, and if we land 
them we’ll have to put on an extra force of 
men and increase our mill space.” 

And the workmen in the mills F Oh, yes — 
true, they should, perhaps, be taken into 

136 


After Two Years 

account. Well, they had prospered, too. 
Their prosperity, however, was of a negative 
sort. Their wages had not been reduced! 

“No,” Mr. Middleton had several times 
occasion to say, “for two years, now, we’ve 
not once been compelled to reduce the wages 
of our men.” This, with the complacency 
of a man who feels that he has done his full 
duty, and as if he thought that the manage- 
ment of the mills and the workmen as well 
were proper subjects for congratulation. 

Had he been asked the quite natural 
question why the company had not raised 
the wages of the workmen in keeping with 
its increased returns, Mr. Middleton might 
have answered the question variously. Upon 
first promptings — regarding the question as 
an impertinence — ^he would most likely have 
made use of that fine and conclusive phrase, 
“ We didn’t have to.” Or, if he felt the press- 
ing of any moral obligation in the matter, he 
might have followed the example set by the 
senior member of the famous firm of Spenlow 
& Jorkins, and said that while he himself 
had been disposed to increase the wages of 
the men, and would have done so had the 
matter been entirely in his own hands, Mr. 
Hartland, who owned such a large block of 

137 


A Captain of Industry 

the stock of the company, would, he knew, 
have been unalterably opposed to any such 
thing. Which statement, so far as it con- 
cerned Mr. Hartland, was undoubtedly true. 

But there would have been no need for 
Mr. Middleton to have recourse to evasion or 
subterfuge. He could have given an em- 
inently plausible and convincing reason. He 
could have brought to his support the unim- 
peachable postulates of any standard work on 
Political Economy — that devil’s own science, 
which builds upon the foundation of a glaring 
paradox — an enlightened selfishness ! Is it not 
written in such works that labor (the laborer ?) 
is a commodity the price of which is regulated 
by the law of supply and demand.^ Do you 
not go into the open market and buy it just 
as you buy cattle, paying more for it when it 
is scarce and less when it is plentiful ? 

A natural sense of justice would suggest 
that if a particular enterprise be successful 
the laborer who produces its product should 
share in any increased income therefrom. 
“Not so,” says the political economist. “His 
wages have no necessary connection with 
the particular enterprise in which he may be 
engaged, but are regulated by the proportion 
which the laboring population, generally, 

138 


After Two Years 

bears to the general wages-fund, which fund 
is determined by the amount of the general 
wealth which is applied to the direct purchase 
of labor.” True, it will not be gainsaid that 
w^hen there is a depression in any business 
the laborer on its payrolls is the first to feel 
the depression in the shape of a reduction of 
wages or loss of employment. But he has 
his remedy, the political economist would 
tell him. The entire labor market is open to 
him; and the depression in one business or 
locality may be offset by a buoyancy in others. 
That is to say, if he finds the conditions of 
labor irksome or the wages low in the factories 
of Massachusetts, conditions may be more 
favorable and wages higher in the mines of 
California, and he should hie himself thither. 
And this to a man who may be wondering 
how he is going to pay his next month’s 
house rent, or where he is going to get the 
money to pay the doctor’s bill in an approach- 
ing emergency! 

Philip Middleton was not ignorant of the 
economic relation of capital and labor as set 
forth in the books, but he had found it difficult 
to square economic theory wdth the practical 
condition that confronted him; and as he saw 
the coffers of the company filling up from 

139 


A Captain of Industry 

the increase of profitable business he could 
not help feeling that there should be a corre- 
sponding increase in wages and salaries, at 
least so far as concerned the employees who 
had been for a considerable time on the pay- 
rolls of the company. But when he broached 
this proposition to his father he quickly 
found himself in the position of the well- 
meaning but injudicious Josiah Allen who 
soon after his second marriage began to 
extol to his better half the culinary accom- 
plishments of his first wife — “ he wasn’t 
encouraged in it.” 

Nevertheless, Philip had been instrumental 
in bringing about a number of improvements 
in the mills. Two things should be partic- 
ularly mentioned. Wash-rooms had been put 
up in the various sections of the mill, and 
the workmen instead of elbowing themselves 
over long troughs outside the mills, as formerly, 
now repaired after their work to well ap- 
pointed lavatories where each workman had 
a numbered locker in which to keep his 
belongings. The other noteworthy improve- 
ment was a large lunch hall which was erected 
adjacent to the mills, and provided with 
counters, tables and chairs, where at a mod- 
erate cost sufficient to make the hall self- 

140 


After Two Years 


supporting, the workmen who so wished 
could get a lunch of well-cooked and whole- 
some food, or where they could take the 
lunches they had brought with them and 
wash them down with a cup of hot coffee 
or tea. 

These, and a few other minor betterments, 
coupled with Philip’s personal influence upon 
the men, both in the mill and in the union, 
the meetings of which he frequently attended, 
served to bring about a general good feeling 
among the workmen, and may have had the 
indirect effect of making them somewhat 
oblivious of the growing disparity between 
the wage scale and the profits of the company. 
For the most part, however, they were doubt- 
less unconscious of any such increasing dis- 
parity. The secrets of the counting-room 
seldom leak out into the workshops. Work- 
men are rarely so clamorous because their 
wages are not increased as they are when 
they are lowered. There never can, however, 
be an equitable adjustment of relations 
between employers and employed until con- 
science and not greed sits between them as 
time-keeper. 

™ ’ ’ ’ 1 faithful to his work in the 



was wont to say that he 


141 


A Captain of Industry 

enjoyed the three hours’ work in the mill 
more than the five in the oflfice. Of course, 
he had taken a day off occasionally, and three 
or four short vacations. These vacations had, 
strange to say, been spent in St. Louis. 
Strange, because that city is seldom the 
objective point with people going on vaca- 
tions. Nevertheless, Philip always came 
home looking as if he had enjoyed himself. 
And no doubt he had. 

John Waters had justified Philip’s con- 
fidence. He had not wasted the time that 
Philip had placed at his disposal. Inspired 
by the laudable purpose which has been 
mentioned, namely, to invent something that 
could be utilized in the mills, he cast about 
for an idea. An idea came to him, naturally 
enough, as he was at work one day at the rolls. 
The haulers were pulling a buggy loaded 
with a heated pile down to the rollers. When 
they came near the rolls they gave the buggy 
the usual swing forward. One of the haulers 
was a little slow, however, in disengaging 
his hook from the buggy, and the jerk of the 
buggy caused him to slip and fall. In his 
fall he struck the heated bar and was severely 
burned. Similar accidents had been nar- 
rowly averted before. It occurred to Waters 

142 


After Two Years 


that the buggy method was a cumbersome 
as well as a dangerous method of transferring 
the bars from the furnaces to the rr ” ’ 



a better and safer way could 


Here was something for him to work on; 
and he straightway put his mind upon it. 
Day after day, week after week, and month 
after month he applied himself faithfully and 
patiently to the problem, following out tenta- 
tively one idea after another. Finally he hit 
upon a device which seemed to promise well. 
After working out the details of the proposed 
contrivance, he carefully drew the plans, 
and was now about ready to submit them to 
Philip, and, if they met with his approval, get 
his assistance in having the device patented 
and put into use. 

The device was not a very intricate one. 
Many very useful inventions have been exceed- 
ingly simple; and when the inventors (or, as 
usually, their assignees) have reaped fortunes 
from them, the envious many, who are 
proverbially wise after the fact, wonder why 
these ideas never occurred to them. They 
could be easily answered. An invention, or, 
indeed, an artistic piece of work in any field 
of human endeavor, which seems so simple 
in itself, comes usually, if not invariably, as 


143 


A Captain of Industry 

the result of some hard previous thinking and 
doing. When one, by patient and persistent 
thought, has wooed the higher powers, great 
and precious secrets which are imminent and 
encompass him about on every side will be 
revealed to him — ^secrets to which the casual 
mind will always be oblivious. 

Waters’s device dispensed with buggies and 
haulers. It consisted of grooved, roller-bot- 
tomed and roller-sided runways which should 
stretch from the furnaces flanking the several 
sections of the mill, and curve and feed into a 
similar central runway which gave upon the 
rolls. The runways were to be at an angle of 
slope so that the bars with an initial momen- 
tum would run easily through them down 
to the rolls. At the furnaces the runways 
elbowed down upon blank hinges. Attached 
to the ends of the elbows were chains running 
upon overhead pulleys. The bars from the 
furnaces were to be placed upon these elbows, 
drawn up by the heaters by means of the 
chains and pulleys and shot into the runways. 

Waters had no difflculty in impressing 
Philip with the feasibility of his invention, 
nor in getting his promise of assistance in 
bringing it out. True, Philip had no very 
marked mechanical turn of mind, and so 

144 


After Two Years 

was hardly competent to pass upon the merits 
of a mechanical invention. But Waters’s 
contrivance was not so intricate as to pass 
beyond his limited comprehension in such 
matters; and apart from any material con- 
siderations he was glad to co-operate with 
Waters in the matter because of the gratifica- 
tion he felt at this evidence of ambitious 
endeavor on his part, and over the realization 
that the lifting of the physical burden from 
Waters was not only to make the conditions 
of his life easier, but seemed likely also to 
result in his increased usefulness. 

With the assistance of a local attorney the 
necessary papers for the procuring of a patent 
were drawn up and forwarded to the Patent 
Oflfice at Wa^ington. In due time letters 
patent were issued to John Waters for new 
and improved steel-mill runways, and granting 
to him, his heirs and assigns, for the term of 
seventeen years, the exclusive right “ to make, 
use, and vend the same throughout the United 
States and the Territories thereof.” 

The invention was now brought to the 
attention of Superintendent Mitchell, and 
having obtained the tentative approval from 
him of “That looks good, an’ it might be 
worth tryin’,” Philip laid the matter before 
145 


A Captain of Industry 

his father, soliciting his consent to have the 
runways made by the company and installed 
in the mills. 

It was while Mr. Middleton was giving this 
project a favorable consideration that certain 
events, momentous in the history of the 
company, began their course; events that 
were big with consequences, and which not 
only seemed likely to make Waters’s patent 
a barren right so far as the Ellerton steel 
company was concerned, but which even 
threatened the very life of that prosperous 
institution. 


146 


CHAPTER XV 
Clouds on the Horizon 

Every business is subject to fluctuations; 
none more so, perhaps, than the iron and 
steel trade. The ebb tides in the history 
of the Ellerton Iron & Steel Works, however, 
had not thus far been of a character to seri- 
ously interfere with the general tenor of its 
business. The company had never been com- 
pelled to pass a dividend since it first began 
to pay dividends; a fact which was a matter 
of great pride with Mr. Middleton. 

But it is easy to sail a boat in good weather. 
The skill of the sea-captain is shown when 
he keeps the nose of his vessel pointed to her 
course amid the storm that threatens to engulf 
her. So it is not difficult to make a business 
pay dividends when generally prosperous 
conditions prevail and there is a uniformly 
steady market for the output of that business. 
The real test of the true captain of industiy 
comes when business conditions become ad- 
verse. He then shows himself when by wise 
economies, tact in the handling of employees, 

147 


A Captain of Industry 

judicious curtailment of product to correspond 
with the lessening demand, alertness in seizing 
upon new markets or wise initiative in creating 
them, he tides over those periods of industrim 
depression which periodically litter the busi- 
ness arena with the wrecks of enterprises less 
ably and resourcefully managed. 

One of these industrial and business depres- 
sions was now stealing over the country. 
Insidious in its approach, as such depressions 
usually are, its presence was finally made 
manifest in the general paralysis which seemed 
to have fallen upon the business world. 
Bank clearances fell off; loans were called in; 
customary credits were withheld; jobbing- 
houses were calling in their salesmen in face 
of decreasing sales and cancelled orders; 
building operations were checked; mills and 
factories were being shut down, and failures 
were frequent. 

Staple as was the output of the Ellerton 
steel company, it was, nevertheless, beginning 
to feel the effect of the depression; and more 
and more did it feel it as time went on. 
As the time approached for the payment of 
one of the regular semi-annual dividends it 
became apparent to Mr. Middleton and to 
the other officers of the company that some 

148 


Clouds on the Horizon 


radical measures would have to be taken 
besides trenching upon the company’s cash 
surplus or that dividend would have to be 


passed. 


In view of the existing business conditions 
it might seem as if the passing of this dividend 
would have been the most natural and a not 
at all serious thing to do. Not so did it seem 
to Mr. Middleton, however. As has been 
stated, it was a matter of pride as well as of 
considerable profit to him that dividends 
had been reguh ' * ’ ’ ’’ )mpany. 



To another 


stockholder 


in the company, also, the prospect of the 
company’s passing a dividend was not a 
pleasant one, to say the least. Mr. Hartland 
would have had little difficulty in pocketing 
any pride he may have had in the matter; 
but not to pocket his regular dividends — 
that was a different thing altogether, and one 
that he could not contemplate with any 
semblance of equanimity. The very thought 
of it was enough to set his wolfish nature 
bristling with preventive expedients. 

First, of course, there would have to be a 
general and considerable reduction in wages 
and salaries; and Mr. Hartland lost no time 
in urging the necessity of this upon Mr. 


149 


A Captain of Industry 


Middleton. Loath as Mr. Middleton was to 
take this step, he was not so fertile in expe- 
dients as to hnd a substitute for it that would 
meet the present emergency. The dividend 
payment must be made at all hazards. The 
credit and standing of the company could 
not be imperiled by having it passed. Strange, 
that Mr. Middleton should see no impair- 
ment of that credit in a cut of wages. But 
he did not; nor would the business world 
generally. There is something sacred, seem- 
ingly, in stock certificates that does not 
inhere in the wages-fund. The latter may be 
cut and slashed, may ebb and flow as unstable 
as a tidal river, and it will be of little signifi- 
cance to the business community. But stock 
quotations are eagerly and carefully scanned, 
it is of little or no importance what wages a 
concern may pay, but it is of the highest 
importance now its stock is rated. And this 
is so not alone with the investing public but 
with people generally. As they have deified 
the dollar so they have apotheosized its 
representative, the stock certificate; so that 
by a sort of divine right the holder looks for 
and exacts its breeding increase, though this 
may cost the more than pound of flesh and 
blood of his toiling brother. 


150 


Clouds on the Horizon 

Mr. Middleton did not regard the existing 
business depression as other than temporary, 
and so became disposed favorably to the wage- 
cutting course insisted upon by Mr. Hartland, 
for he reflected that this course would relieve 
the present tension and bridge the company’s 
diflficulties until the not distant time when 
restored prosperous business conditions would 
warrant a restoration of the present wage 
scale. And he allayed whatever scruples he 
had in the matter by promising himself that 
wages should be restored at that time. 

Mr. Hartland also regarded the business 
depression as temporary, but also as opportune 
for a permanent reduction of wages. He 
knew that as a rule when wages are reduced 
they rarely, or very slowly, come back to the 
former level ; and if he could but once get them 
reduced in the mills he would make it his care 
to see that their return to their former level 
should be slow indeed. 

Of course, Mr. Middleton looked for con- 
siderable grumbling among the workmen, if 
not some active opposition, when the wage 
cut should be made. And here he counted 
upon Philip’s assistance in allaying their dis- 
content and reconciling them to the situation. 
He now congratulated himself that he had 

151 


A Captain of Industry 

such a good friend at the workmen’s court; 
that Philip’s association with the men in the 
mill and in the union, to which he had never 
become quite resigned, was now to redound 
to the benefit of the company. Philip had 
made himself extremely popular with the 
men, and they would, without doubt, be 
influenced and guided by his advice. Mr. 
Middleton did not for a moment doubt that 
this advice would be in the interest of the 
company; nor did he have a thought that 
Philip might have some very decided views 
of his own in the matter that would not 
dovetail very well with those held by himself. 
Why, indeed, should he have harbored such 
a thought ? Philip was his own son, with the 
most flattering and assured expectations for 
the future. He was soon to hold a respon- 
sible position with the company; and he had, 
besides, in his own right, a quite respectable 
block of the company’s stock. Assuredly, 
there could not be two opinions as to the 
position he would take in the matter. 

So sure was Mr. Middleton of Philip’s 
support that he did not think it necessary to 
take him into his confidence in regard to the 

P roposed step. It might have been better had 
e done so. It might have been better still 
152 


Clouds on the Horizon 

if he had taken the workmen themselves into 
his confidence. This, of course, would have 
been against all precedent. Although wage- 
workers are the ones most seriously affected 
by a drop in the wage scale, they are not 
considered necessary or even proper parties 
to be consulted in any new adjustment of it. 
Yet, if they were so consulted, many of the 
labor troubles that disturb the business world 
might be averted. There are times when 
wages must be reduced. The wage-workers 
themselves might be led to see the necessity 
of this in a friendly conference in which the 
conditions and resources of the business were 
frankly disclosed to them. But when the wage 
cut comes upon the worker like a stab in the 
dark, and with the implied arrogant alterna- 
tive, “take it or leave it,’’ it is not surprising 
that he should suspect that the cut has little 
else behind it than the cupidity of his employer. 

Thus suddenly and unexpectedly came the 
notice of the wage cut upon the Ellerton mill 
employees. Notices were posted in the mills 
on a Saturday announcing that beginning on 
the following Monday there would be a twenty 
per cent reduction in wages throughout the 
mills. The cut was necessary, so the notices 
stated, owing to the existing great business 

153 


A Captain of Industry 

depression throughout the country, and in order 
that the mills might be continued in operation. 

From his connection with the company 
and remarks dropped by his father in con- 
versation, Philip had become advised that the 
approaching dividend payment was a matter 
of some embarrassment to the company. 
How that payment was to be made, however, 
was not a question that had obtruded itself 
seriously upon his thought. If he had thought 
of it at all, he certainly had not contemplated 
a radical wage cut as a means to that end. 
No workman in the mills, therefore, could have 
been more surprised or dumfounded than 
was Philip when he read the posted notice. 

A cut of twenty per cent! Such a reduc- 
tion, Philip knew very well, meant to many of 
the workmen the wiping out of all margin above 
the actual necessaries of living. And the real 
if not the avowed purpose of this reduction of 
wages was to secure the payment of a regular 
dividend to the stockholders. And who were 
the stockholders ? His father and Mr. Hart- 
land, principally. He himself was a stock- 
holder. Directly, then, and in expectancy, he 
was a beneficiary of the wage-cutting policy. 
With what face could he continue his work 
in the mills, meeting daily the reproachful 

154 


Clouds on the Horizon 


looks of the workmen who would have cause 
to suspect him of being a party to their op- 
pression ? How could he ever again raise his 
voice in a meeting of the union ? Would not 
any future assurances of the good-will of the 
company toward its workmen sound hollow 
and hypocritical in the light of this concrete 
example of illiberality ? And would the men 
listen with any patience to his disclaimers of 
responsibility for the company’s action, know- 
ing that it would inure to nis financial gain ? 

Had he, then, come to the parting of the 
ways, where he could no longer maintain his 
dual position of the past? Well, and if he 
had, what of it? To many, certainly, it 
would not seem that he was confronted with 
any very serious or complicated problem. 
Could there be any doubt m which direction 
his interest — yes, and his very duty, lay ? He 
held a position with and stock in the com- 
pany. His father was at the head of it. 
The company had taken certain action to 
further the payment of its dividends. Surely 
every motive of self-interest and of filial duty 
should move him not only to acquiesce in 
but to support such action. Ninety-nine 
men out of a hundred would not have felt 
themselves confronted by any dilemma here. 

155 


A Captain of Industry 

The ninety-nine would have unhesitatingly 
yielded to the evident logic of the situation 
and at once severed relations with the mill work- 
ers when such relations were so apparently 
opposed to self-interest. 

But Philip was the hundredth man — the 
man with a conscience ! 

Conscience! How many blunders, from a 
worldly point of view, are committed in its 
name! How often its leadings seem to be 
away from worldly honors, emoluments and 
preferments. And yet the noble soul must 
needs listen to the still small voice, and obey 
its inexorable mandates, cost what it may. 
Yea, in the very shadow of death itself, he 
must say, as said the great apostle of the 
Reformation: “There I take my stand. I can 
do naught else. So help me, God. Amen!” 

But such obedience brings its reward; and 
that reward is genuine. As, in the end, the 
flagellations of conscience are merciless upon 
him who has disobeyed its behests for the 
sake of immediate gain, turning such gains to 
ashes in his hands, so from the crucible of 
persecution and of suffering and of loss 
for conscience’ sake comes finally the resplen- 
dent jewel of character to give light and joy 
and beauty forever! 

156 




Clouds on the Horizon 


In the forum of conscience a law prevails 
that is different from the law of business. 
Business seems to be largely a matter of 
arithmetic. Can you, by a certain course 
of action, figure out a profit for yourself 
Inquire no further. That course is the one 
for you to take, even though some one else 
may be badly pinched or squeezed by it. Let 
all your faculties be focused upon the main 
chance, and do not let your cold calculations 
suffer aberration by any moral considerations. 
Such is the law of business, and, implicitly 
obeyed, it eventually brings a certain kind 
of success: That success which is achieved 
by a man who has gathered together vastly 
more than he needs of this world’s goods, 
but in whose heart the springs of love, of 
brotherly kindness and of generous impulse 
are dried up — sacrificed to that insatiate 
fetish — Gold, w^hose material rewards are, 
indeed, boundless, but whose talismanic key 
unlocks not the door of happiness and peace! 

Philip Middleton’s heart had not become 
hardened by long pupilage in the school 
of business. Hard-headed men of business 
(not hard-hearted, of course) would have called 
him unsophisticated, a term not infrequently 
used to characterize one who allows himself 

157 


A Captain of Industry 

to be swayed by the natural impulses of an 
ingenuous nature before it has become soured 
and perverted by familiarity with and adop- 
tion of worldly standards and worldly methods. 
And when such impulses express themselves 
in action, the same hard-headed men of 
business sneer at such actions as quixotic. 
“The purest impulses and the noblest pur- 
poses,” says Ruskin, “have perhaps been 
oftener stayed by the devil under the name 
of quixotism than any other base name or 
false allegation.” 

The humorous creation of Cervantes, drawn 
for no other purpose than to pillory for public 
laughter the absurdities in the then current 
books on chivalry, has been made, the proto- 
type of those who shape their conduct accord- 
ing to unmercenary and unselfish standards. 
A new commentary upon that great Spanish 
classic would seem to be needed to rescue its 
author from the false position in which the lat- 
ter-day interpretation has placed him. 

Yes, Philip Middleton, the money-grubbing, 
money-grabbing Philistine, with whom con- 
science has no coercive force and duty is a 
word of little meaning, would certainly have 
called you quixotic in the course you had now 
determined to take. 


158 


CHAPTER XVI 


The Special Meeting 

A SPECIAL meeting of the mill workers’ 
union had been called to discuss and to take 
action upon the wage cut. 

Philip crossed his moral Rubicon by attend- 
ing this meeting. In going to the meeting he 
had a double purpose in view. He not only 
wished to give the workmen assurances of 
his friendship and sympathy in the present 
crisis, but also to forestall, if possible, any 
hasty action on their part which might work 
irreparable injury both to themselves and to 
the company. 

When he entered the assembly-hall on the 
night of the meeting a murmur of surprise 
went through the room. What had he come 
for 

“I wonder if he thinks he can scare us 
into keepin’ our mouths shut,” said one bel- 
ligerent member. 

“Well, if he does he’s mightily mistaken,” 
said the man who sat beside him. 

“You bet he is.” 


159 


A Captain of Industry 

“ He can talk till he’s blue in the face 
before he’ll make us swallow that twenty-cent 
steal.” 

“That’s what.” 

“But there’s Waters smilin’ an’ talkin’ 
friendly like to him.” 

“Waters ain’t got no kick cornin’, anyway,” 
said a little wizen-faced man who sat near. 
“He’s only workin’ short time; an’ like as not, 
young Middleton’s got him won over.” 

“Waters ain’t no traitor,” spoke up gruffly 
a big, burly man, looking down on the little 
man frownmgly, “ an’ if he sides with Middle- 
ton to-night you can just bet Middleton’s 
got somethin’ up his sleeve we ain’t lookin’ 
fur.” 

“ Well, we’ll see,” said the little man. 

The meeting was opened, and the matter 
for the consideration of which the union had 
been convened was at once taken up. 

The belligerent member who has been 
mentioned, lest Philip Middleton’s presence 
should appear to have the effect of keeping 
mouths shut, was the first to open his. In a 
fierce harangue he railed against the injustice 
of the wage cut, denounced the company 
for having made it, and called upon the men 
to rebel against it. 


160 


The Special Meeting 

His fiery speech seemed to set the pace for 
the other speakers. All condemned unspar- 
ingly the action of the company. Aaron 
Gilks, especially, now found a most favorable 
opportunity for airing and inculcating his 
radical ideas. He launched forth in an in- 
vective on the tyranny and soullessness of 
capital, the slavery of labor, and the mortal 
confiict between them. In submission the 
condition of the laborer was utterly hopeless; 
his only salvation was to rise in his might 
and strive with the malevolent power that 
was throttling him. The present wage cut 
was but the precursor of others if supinely 
submitted to; and he urged upon the union 
the duty and the necessity of opposing it by 
the most effective weapon they possessed — 
the strike. 

Amid all the speaking, John Waters re- 
mained silent. There was much to prompt 
him to speak. If he had not so much occasion 
to feel aggrieved on his own account, his 
sympathy went out to his fellow workmen 
over what had happened, and he longed to 
express that sympathy publicly. But he had 
the greatest confidence in Philip, and felt 
sure that he had come to the meeting with a 
feeling of good-will toward the workmen, and 

161 


A Captain of Industry 

that he would before the meeting closed 
have something to offer that would both 
evidence such good-will and afford some sort 
of a solution of the present difficulty. He 
therefore waited for him to speak. 

Tom Ten wick, too, repressed his usual 
disposition to seize the floor. True, he was 
somewhat handicapped on this night. He 
had come without his frock coat, and missed 
sadly the inspiration that came to him from 
that dignified garment. But, like Waters, he 
felt relieved of the duty and necessity of 
speaking through the expectation raised by 
Philip’s presence. He had that kind of 
admiration for Philip which expects miracles, 
and he would not have been surprised if, 
when he rose to speak, he had at once dis- 
pelled the ugly nightmare of the wage cut. 
Tenwick, therefore, contented himself with 
darting angry glances at the speakers who 
made Philip the subject of any of their 
strictures. But it is feared that such glances 
had little deterrent effect upon the speakers 
even if they saw them; for Tom’s cross-eyes, 
however fiercely they snapped, made very 
poor conductors of his displeasure. 

Philip had certainly not been spared by 
many of the speakers. They naturally enough 

162 


The Special Meeting 

imputed to him knowledge of an intended 
wage reduction and a supine acquiescence 
in, if not an actual abetting of it. Was 
this, said the irreconcilable Gilks, his promised 
friendship for the workmen and the measure 
of his good offices in their behalf with the 
company ? If, since his entrance into the mill 
and the union, he had done some things 
to better the working conditions in the mills, 
were these but to lull them into a feeling 
of security in his friendship and make easier 
this final and flagrant act of injustice, as 
does the gambler who allows his unsuspect- 
ing victim to win a little at first in order that 
he may be lured into losing heavily at the 
last ? And had he now come thinking to 
secure their acquiescence in the company’s 
action.^ Let him not deceive himself. They 
were neither children nor fools to be in- 
nocently led or blindly duped into com- 
mitting such a folly. Let him spare his words 
on that score. Let him rather, if he ap- 
preciated his obligations as a member of 
the union, consider how far such obligations 
had been met in the present situation. Had 
he not treacherously sacrificed their interests 
to further his own ? How could he longer just- 
ify his remaining in the mills or in the union ? 

163 


A Captain of Industry 

Philip, like a skilful general who, secure 
in his position, draws the fire of the enemy 
before opening his own, waited patiently 
until the high-wrought feelings of the men had 
been given full vent. He then rose, stepped 
forward to the front of the room, bowed to 
the chairman and then turned and faced 
the assembly. His face was pale, but the 
pallor was much in keeping with the calm 
yet determined look that his countenance 
bore; the look of the man of moral courage 
who, facing a moral crisis, fears nothing 
except that he may fail in his duty. Slowly 
sweeping his eyes over the room, which 
was hushed to a deathlike stillness, he began 
to speak in a voice in which a slight tremor 
was noticeable; not the tremor which fear 
excites, but like that caused by pent-up and 
repressed energy. 

“Fellow members of the union,” he said. 
“As I address you, so I speak to you, as a 
member of the union. I have been reminded 
(unnecessarily, I think) of my obligations 
as a member of the union. Trust me, I 
have not forgotten them. But from the 
surprise that has been manifested at my 
presence here to-night, and the comments that 
nave been made thereon, I am afraid that 

164 


The Special Meeting 

one of my privileges as such a member has been 
overlooked. Let me remind you, then, of 
that privilege. It is to attend anv and all 
meetings of the union and to freely express 
my opinion touching any matter that may 
be the suMect of its deliberations. Of that 
privilege I have availed myself to-night; 
and had I come, as has been supposed, to 
advise you to acquiesce in the action which 
has lately been taken by the company, to 
so advise you would still be within my priv- 
ilege; and if I thought that such acquiescence 
would be for the best interests of the work- 
men and the union, I should not hesitate to 
advocate it here and now, in spite of the 
anger, threats and aspersions which such 
advocacy might arouse.’ 

‘^He ain’t showin’ the white feather, any- 
way,” whispered the belligerent member. 

“No, he ain’t,” assented the man beside 
him. 

“You never saw a man with a high fore- 
head like he’s got that didn’t have a lot o’ 
backbone to go with it,” said the big, burly 
man. 

“’Sh!” came from the wizen-faced little 
man deprecatingly. 

“As a member of the union, then,” con- 
165 


A Captain of Industry 

tinued Philip, after a short pause, “ I am here, 
and I now speak to you. Whether or not 
that relation is to continue will depend upon 
your action to-night. I should be sorry to 
have that relation severed. For the past two 
years I have gone in and out among you. 
I have worked beside you in the mills and 
have taken part in the deliberations of your 
union. This has been to me an interesting 
and a valuable experience. So far as I may 
be said to represent the company, the work- 
men and the company have touched elbows 
somewhat after the old way when the employer 
knew his employees personally and thus 
established a basis for a better understanding 
and more amicable relations. The time I 
have spent in the mill has given me consider- 
able first-hand knowledge of steel manufac- 
turing and of the working conditions in the 
mill which I could not otherwise so well 
have gained. The work, too, has proved an 
excellent physical tonic, one that I can 
heartily recommend to business and pro- 
fessional men as a specific for tired brain and 
flagging energies. You who have so much 
of manual lafor maj hardly appreciate what 
a blessing a little of it may be to men who are 
engaged in sedentary pursuits, or the extent 

166 


The Special Meeting 

of the deprivation to men in such pursuits 
who have none at all. In the better social 
order of the future perhaps all will have 
some, certainly none will have too much. It 
may be trite to speak of the blessing of labor, 
but I am very much afraid that with quite 
all of those who have spoken of it and sung 
of it, it has been but a figure of speech. 
Practically, labor of the hand has been avoided 
as if it were a contamination. Men have 
feared to soil their hands lest in some way 
they should soil their souls or lose caste with 
their fellows. And so they have flocked to 
the confining, if not idle, life of the pro- 
fessions, and overcrowded the occupations 
supposedly genteeh More genteel have many 
supposed it to be to make a precarious living 
by their wits than an assured one by productive 
labor. The badge of servitude must be tak- 
en from labor of the hand, and its dignity, 
its beauty, its healthfulness and its happiness 
recognized. Then perhaps we shall have, as 
a corrective of the congestion in employments 
that stifle, a dispersion to the health-giving 
life of the open. We have, of course, as 
men, differing capacities and aptitudes, and 
are born to differing environments. These 
must naturally shape our life’s activities, 

167 


A Captain of Industry 

but they should not fix our social status. In 
that better social order of the future that I 
spoke of we shall have a true democracy. 
There will be no aristocracy but the aristocracy 
of merit. What you are will determine your 
status, and not what may happen to be your 
honest employment. (Applause!) 

“All this may appear to be somewhat 
beside the object and purpose of this meeting; 
but it will serve to show you in what light 
I have looked upon my past association 
with you, and, if you believe me sincere in 
what I have said, how little likely it is that 
I should be inspired by the sinister motives 
that have been attributed to me here to-night. 
To the personal friends I have among you, 
whose friendship I prize as highly as any that 
I have made in the so-called higher walks 
of life, to these I know that I need make no 
disclaimer of any such sinister motives. As to 
others, I must, of course, make allowance 
for the excited state of feeling over the recent 
change in the wage scale, and for the (|uite 
justifi^able inference from my relations to 
the company that I had a hand in bringing 
this about. Let me say to you, then — and I 
expect to be believed when I say it — ^that I 
am sorry this wage cut was made; that I had 

168 


The Special Meeting 

nothing whatever to do with it; that I did 
not even know that it was going to be made 
before it was made. For reasons best known 
to themselves the powers that be did not 
take me into their confidence in this matter. 
Thev doubtless took it for granted that I 
would acquiesce in their action and that I 
would use my influence with you to secure 
your acquiescence in it. But” — here Philip 
paused, straightened himself up, and with 
the terrible earnestness of one casting a fate- 
ful die, said: “I do not approve of it; I can- 
not acquiesce in it, nor am I here to-night 
to urge you to acquiesce in it!” (Loud 
applause and cheers!) 

knew he didn’t! I knew he wouldn’t!” 
cried Ten wick, jumping up to cheer, and 
then dropping into his seat again after making 
a fruitless clutch at vacancy in the quarter 
where his coat-tails should have been. 

Philip waited for quiet to be restored, and 
then continued: 

“But my duty to you and to the company 
does n.ot end with the announcement of my 
attitude on this question. If I am not here 
to advise you to acquiesce in the action of 
the company, I am here to counsel you against 
an offensive rebellion in the shape of a strike. 

169 


A Captain of Industry 

A strike is war. War is wasteful and destruct- 
ive. It is a great evil in itself, and should 
never be resorted to to redress grievances 
until all the means of a wise diplomacy have 
been exhausted. So a labor strike ought not 
to be called until conference, mediation, arbi- 
tration, concession and compromise have 
failed. Recall all the strikes of the past that 
you have known, and how many of them 
can you truthfully say were really successful ? 
The strike is the primitive argument of the 
club, an argument that has never been con- 
sidered convincing, nor is it ever very for- 
midable, for one side can never have a monop- 
oly of the clubs. And yet, many think that 
the main purpose of labor unions is to put 
labor upon a war footing. This is an entirely 
false notion — damnably false. It is not only 
false in theory but it is false in fact. In the 
strongest and best organized unions in the 
country strikes are of very infrequent occur- 
rence. And why ? It is because these unions 
have the benefit of wise and conservative 
leadership. Their leaders are not forever 
emphasizing and thereby perpetuating the 
enmity between capital and labor, nor are 
they continually inflaming the passions of 
their followers by appeals to class hatreds 
170 


The Special Meeting 

and prejudices. They realize the terrible 
waste and destructiveness of strikes, and so 
are bent upon preventing them rather than 
promoting them. They are close students 
of existing industrial conditions, and so, 
learning what their fellow workmen are en- 
titled to under such conditions, and what 
they can reasonably ask for, they present 
and enforce their claims through the peaceful 
methods of negotiation and agreement. Such 
should be the policy of all labor unions. The 
aim should be to make them an intelligent, 
not a mere brutal force. No matter how 
strong a union may be it cannot enforce 
demands which it would be ruinous to the 
business of the employer to grant. Of course, 
capital is selfish. Is not labor selfish, too.?^ 
If capital asks, ‘How little can I give,’ does 
not labor ask, ‘How much can I get.^^’ But 
somewhere between these extremes of offer 
and demand lies the just wage scale, which 
concedes to the employer a legitimate profit 
and gives to the laborer a fair return for his 
labor. The establishment and maintenance 
of this just wage scale, the constant improve- 
ment in the conditions of labor, and the moral, 
mental and social uplift of the laborer — 
along these lines should the activities of 

171 


A Captain of Industry 

labor unions and labor leaders be directed. 
With activities so directed, labor unions are 
a useful, a beneficent agency in society, 
instead of an industrial menace, as unwise 
leadership has so often made them. Upon 
demands founded in right and justice they 
may well be insistent, for ‘Thrice is he armed 
that hath his quarrel just.’ In making such 
demands they will not only find employers 
more amenable, but they will be supported 
and upheld by an intelligent, an active, a 
powerful public opinion. (Applause!) 

“Now, from what I have said you will 
see how I think you should act in the present 
emergency: not hastily, but circumspectly. 
Be first assured of the extent of your rights, 
and then seek their recognition by the com- 
pany without recourse to the violent agency 
of a strike. To this end I want you to 
authorize me to-night to act as your repre- 
sentative before the company in this matter; 
not to bind you finally by anything that I 
may do or say, but rather as a mediator to 
bring about a reversal of the recent action of 
the company, or at all events such a modifica- 
tion of it as under the present circumstances 
shall be fair and just to both workmen and 
the company. 


172 


The Special Meeting 


“You may readily understand that this is 
not the most pleasant task that, with your 
sanction, I assign myself. I only do it from 
an overpowering sense of duty; a duty I owe 
to you as a member of the union, a duty I 
owe no less to the company, sustaining the 
relations to it that I do. I am more anxious 
than I can tell you that there should be the 
most friendly relations between the company 
and its workmen. In order that such friendly 
relations may be maintained I know that the 
company must deal justly with you, and that 
moderation and forbearance should char- 
acterize your conduct and attitude toward 
the company. 

“Let me, then, take this commission from 
you. I have assured you that I am opposed 
to the wage cut. I think I know why it 
was made, and the reason for it does not ap- 
peal to my conscience as being a valid one. 
Having taken this stand, I need not, I think, 
be very urgent in my appeal to you for support, 
or for the confidence which would be implied 
in the delegated authority to speak for you. 
Such confidence will, I know, be an added 
incentive to the personal responsibility I feel 
in the matter, to bring the present difference 
to an amicable and satisfactory adjustment.” 

173 


A Captain of Industry 

(Loud and prolonged applause!) 

The effect of Philip’s speech was most 
marked. The spectacle of the son of the 
president of the company championing the 
cause of the workmen in the matter of wages 
was certainly a novel and inspiring one, and 
such promised intercession seemed to assure 
to the workmen a favorable issue of the wage 
dispute. Philip’s proposal, therefore, met 
with general and enthusiastic approval, and 
by resolution of the union he was empowered 
to represent the union in a conference with 
the company officials, and to report to the 
union the result of such conference at a meet- 
ing to be held the following week, further 
action by the union on the subject of the wage 
cut to be deferred until that time. 

Philip was busy for some time after the 
meeting in receiving the thanks and words 
of encouragement from the workmen who 
crowded around him. Aaron Gilks, however, 
was not of this number. He hastily left the 
hall at the close of the meeting, only remark- 
ing cynically to a group of men as he passed 
out: “Oh, he means well enough, but it’s 
dollars to doughnuts he’s going on a fool’s 
errand.” 


174 


CHAPTER XVII 


Father and Son 

The prospect of Philip’s accomplishing 
what he had undertaken could not, certainly, 
have been said to be very bright, especially 
since his father had had a conference with 
Mr. Hartland, and had been much fortified 
by that gentleman’s very timely suggestions 
and encouragement. 

The mutinous feeling among the workmen 
over the wage cut and the special meeting of 
the union that was called to take action 
upon it, had occasioned Mr. Middleton some 
uneasiness, and he had sought an early in- 
terview with Mr. Hartland. 

“There’s a storm brewing over this thing,” 
he said to him. “The mill hands seem to be 
pretty much cut up about it, and a special 
meeting of their union has been called to 
consider it. We shall doubtless hear from 
them shortly.” 

“Oh, I guess the storm will blow over,” 
said Mr. Hartland confidently. “This is a 
poor time for them to quarrel with their bread 

175 


A Captain of Industry 

and butter. There are plenty of men out of 
work just now ready to take the places of 
any that want to quit, and they know it.’’ 

^‘Yes, men are plentiful enough, certainly,” 
said Mr. Middleton. “Hardly a day passes 
now that we don’t have applications for 
work. Still, all the workmen are union 
men, and if the union should order a strike 
they would all have to quit at once, and this, 
I am afraid, would seriously embarrass us. 
Suppose the union calls a strike T ’ 

^‘Then we’ll find a way to stop it,” replied 
Mr. Hartland in a defiant tone, as if already 
confronted by the suggested emergency. 
“We’re not hiring the union, and it’s got no 
right to interfere between us and the men 
who are willing to work for the wages we 
choose to pay. We don’t want to recognize 
the union in this matter at all. It’s an 
irresponsible organization, run by a lot of 
hotheads that are always stirring the men up 
to making demands they wouldn’t think of 
making if left to themselves. I’d like to 
break it up. We’ll never have things running 
smoothly until we have a non-union mill. 
This may be a good time to bring that about. 
Certainly it’s no time to listen to any demands 
that the union may make, or to parley with 

176 


Father and Son 


it at all. If we do, we’ll only be giving it 
the whip-hand of us, and we might just as 
well turn the management of the company 
over to it at once and be done with it. But 
I guess we’re not ready to do that just yet.” 

“No, hardly,” said Mr. Middleton, laugh- 
ing. “ There wouldn’t be many dividends 
paid in that case, I imagine.” 

“Then let’s stand pat,” said Mr. Hartland, 
bringing his fist down on his desk in emphasis. 
“We hold the best cards just now. If we’re 
going to have a fight with the union we 
couldn’t have it at a better time. The 
country is full of men looking for work, and 
we shouldn’t have any trouble keeping the 
mills running even if there was a general 
walk-out.” 

Mr. Middleton felt considerably reassured. 
Still, he had no desire to try conclusions with 
the workmen, and so hoped the storm raised 
among them by the wage cut would blow 
over, as Mr. Hartland predicted. His posi- 
tion was not unlike that of the man who, 
without forethought, has heavily loaded his 
wagon, and then begins to fear a possible 
breakdown. 

He now bethought himself of Philip; and 
on the morning following the special meeting 
177 


A Captain of Industry 

of the workmen’s union he summoned him 
into his private office. He thus anticipated 
Philip’s call upon him. 

“Now for it,” said Philip to himself deter- 
minedly as he entered the office and closed 
the door behind him. 

For a moment he stood with his hand on 
the door-knob and looked at his father. In 
that brief moment duty had a final struggle 
with affection. Not until then had he had 
such a realizing sense of the nature and 
possible consequences of his self-imposed task. 
What was he about to do? Set himself in 
opposition to his own father. The thought 
of espousing the cause of the workmen as 
against the company was much more support- 
able when the company was considered ab- 
stractly as an impersonal thing than when it be- 
came personified in its president, and such es- 
pousal seemed to demand a sacrifice of filial 
respect and obedience. Philip was certainly 
not wanting in these last-named virtues, and 
this only made his present position the more 
trying. But he could not now retreat, any 
more than the brave soldier who rushes 
forward in a charge can turn about at the 
moment of impact with the enemy. His 
honor, moreover, was now involved, for he 

178 


Father and Son 


came with an embassy from the union which 
must be honorably discharged. 

No, he must not flinch. 

His perturbation of mind, however, could 
not be entirely disguised, and the evidence of 
it must have been noticed by his father had 
not the latter’s thoughts been just then other- 
wise engaged. 

There are moments in life when, under the 
stress of excitement or deep feeling, inherited 
resemblances become more clearly marked 
in the face. As Mr. Middleton now looked 
at his son he was struck with his remarkable 
likeness to his mother; and the thought caused 
a lump to come into his throat. He had h^r 
dark hair and eyes, and the same straight, 
faultless nose. But aside from the general 
resemblance of feature there was a certain 
intangible something that could be felt but 
not described which pervaded the features 
and which called up to Mr. Middleton the one 
woman — the one being — whose soul seemed 
to be indissolubly linked with his own, and 
whose untimely death had never seemed to 
him other than a heartless tragedy. 

For the brief instant that the memory of 
Philip’s mother was strong upon him; so 
vivid, indeed, that she appeared visualized 

179 


A Captain of Industry 

before him, Mr. Middleton experienced a 
wave of generous emotion. But this passed 
as quickly as it came. Other and more 
normal thoughts obtruded, and thought and 
feeling again became set to their accustomed 
channels. 

As in physics so in the realm of mind and 
character there is a vis inertice which carries 
one along the straight, undeviating line of 
habit, of acquired tendencies; and impulse, 
emotion, spasmodic feeling, avail not for any 
permanent deflection. 

And so it was with Mr. Middleton, now. 
The generous, conciliatory mood into which 
his momentary emotion had thrown him was 
gone, and he was again the cold man of 
business; the president of the Ellerton Iron 
& Steel Works. 

“Sit down, Phil,” he said with a wave of 
his hand toward a chair, and in a voice which 
showed no trace of his recent emotion, “I 
want to talk to you about the mill men. As 
you know, we’ve had to make a considerable 
reduction in wages. The men, I under- 
stand, are not taking the cut with very good 
grace, and may give us some trouble over it. 
They held a meeting last night, I believe, to 
consider the matter. Now, you stand in with 

180 


Father and Son 


the men pretty well, Phil, and can therefore 
be of considerable assistance to us just now 
in allaying their discontent and reconciling 
them to the situation.” 

Philip had seated himself. Throwing his 
right leg over his left, clutching his knee with 
his hands and giving his chair a tilt backward, 
he said calmly : “ In order to do that I should 
first have to be reconciled to it myself.” 

“You.^^ What do you mean?” asked his 
father in surprise. 

“ I mean that I don’t think the heavy 
wage cut the company has made is quite fair 
or just to the workmen; and as I don’t approve 
of it, I can’t, of course, urge the men to accept 
it or to become reconciled to it.” 

Mr. Middleton looked his astonishment. 

“You don’t approve of it!” he burst out. 
“Well, why doiii you? Don’t you know 
that we’ve got to retrench if we’re going to 
declare our regular dividend next month?” 

“Yes, I suppose we have in order to declare 
a dividend. But why declare the dividend — 
why not pass it ?” 

“Pass it! Are vou crazy? We might as 
well shut up shop.’ 

“No, I’m not crazy,” said Philip quietly. 
“My suggestion may, perhaps, seem a little 

181 


A Captain of Industry 

unusual from a strictly business point of 
view. But in cutting wages to pay a dividend 
are we not generous to the stockholders at 
the expense of the workmen.? Are we not 
robbing Peter to pay Paul 

“We’re robbing nobody,” Mr. Middleton 
replied with growing heat. “Even with the 
twenty per cent cut we’re paying the .men more 
than we need to pay in the present condition 
of the labor market. There are plenty of 
men that would be only too glad to go into 
the mills at the wages we are now paying.” 

“That may be,” said Philip, “but shouldn’t 
we consider the fact that most of the men now 
on the payrolls have been with us a long 
time, and, with a veiy few exceptions, have 
received no increase of pay during the two or 
three years past when the profits of the 
company have been exceptionally large. Is 
it fair to the men to make them now bear 
the brunt of a dull market in order to protect 
the stockholders .? I know I’m perfectly will- 
ing to forego a dividend on my stock, or even 
two, if necessary, to restore the former wage 
scale . 

“ Well, if you are, I’m not,” Mr. Middleton 
retorted ; ‘ and Mr. Hartland isn’t, and I don’t 
think any of the other stockholders are. 

im 


Father and Son 


“Look here, Phil,” he continued with im- 
patience, “you can’t run this business, or 
any business, on Sunday-school principles. 
So long as we pay going wages it’s all we 
ought to be asked to pay, and it’s all that 
good business sense dictates that we should 
pay. Any of the men who are dissatisfied 
with the pay can quit. 

“I guess there won’t be many that will 
quit, though,” he added with a grim smile. 
“This is a poor time to give up a job, no 
matter what it pays. Our men will, perhaps, 
make a lot of fuss over this for a while, but 
they will end by swallowing their medicine, 
even if they do make a wry face over it. Of 
course, we’d rather not have any trouble with 
the men, and you could have been of con- 
siderable assistance to us, Phil, in smoothing 
things over with them. But with your pecul- 
iar notions, it’s very evident that we can’t 
expect much help from you in that direction. 

“That’s all I wanted to see you about, 
Phil,” he said coldly, and swung around to 
his desk in sign of dismissal. 

It would have been well, perhaps, if the 
interview had ended at this point. Thus far 
there had been little more than the natural 
friction between father and son caused by 

183 


A Captain of Industry 

their entertaining different views in regard 
to the policy to be pursued by the company 
toward the workmen. If Philip’s attitude 
was disappointing to his father it was not 
greatly disquieting. He regarded it as but 
the ingenuous generosity of inexperience, 
which, if it did not give way to a cooler sober 
sense, would certainly not assert itself obnox- 
iously. But how, now, when that attitude 
assumed the character of active opposition, 
as the facts connected with the previous 
night’s meeting of the union would disclose 
The little encouragement he had thus far 
received made Philip dread the outcome of 
such disclosure. He would fain have deferred 
it; but he realized that nothing could be 
gained by deferring it, and that the best 
way to perform a disagreeable duty is to 
perform it speedily. With a resolute muster 
of courage, therefore, he said : 

“Father, I attended the meeting of the 
workmen’s union last night.” 

“You did!” his father ejaculated. “That’s 
a strange thing for you to be doing at this 
time. I hope you didn’t air any of your 
foolish notions before the men.” 

“I ^oke to the men, yes, but I hope that 
what 1 said was not foolish. I found them 

184 



“ Traitor! ” 


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Father and Son 


very much wrought up over the wage cut, 
and quite ready to walk out on a strike. I 
held them in check by assuring them that 
I was opposed to the wage cut myself, and 
that I would do all that I could to get the 
company to rescind its action. They voted 
to let me represent them in negotiations with 
the company, and to await a report from 
me at a meeting next week. I should have 
called on you, father, in regard to the mat- 
ter if you hadn’t called me in this morning.” 

Mr. Middleton looked at his son in amaze- 
ment. Then rising from his chair he took 
a few steps across the floor and turned toward 
him angrily: 

“So this is what you’ve been doing, is it? 
Instead of helping us you’ve been backing 
the men. What do you get for playing the 
traitor?” 

Stung to the quick, Philip sprang to his feet. 

“Traitor!” he cried. ‘^You are my father 
or you should answer speedily for that insult. 
In what way am I a traitor, pray? Because 
I want the company to act fairly toward its 
workmen ? Because I have stepped in and 
checked a threatened strike and given the 
opportunity to adjust the trouble 



185 


A Captain of Industry 

“ I don’t know how else to characterize 
your conduct, Phil,” his father retorted hotly. 
“You are in the service of the company, 
and instead of using your influence with the 
men to get them to acquiesce in the wage 
cut, you ally yourself with them and encourage 
them in a revolt against it. You may not 
call this treachery to the company, but it 
looks very much like it to me. I don’t care 
what you call it. It’s reprehensible conduct 
on your part, Phil, and something I didn’t 
expect from you. 

‘Checked a strike.?” he went on; “why, 
you’ve only encouraged one. What must the 
men think when they see one sustaining the 
relations to me and to the company that 
you do, himself opposing, instead of supporting, 
the company .? If you wanted to promote 
a strike you couldn’t have gone about it in 
a better way. A fine mess you’ve made of it.” 

“ What I’ve done I’ll stand to,” said Philip 
stoutly. “I consider the wage cut unjust to 
the workmen, and unnecessary. In asking, 
on behalf of the men, that it be rescinded I 
am simply asking that you and Mr. Hartland, 
who own the bulk of the company’s stock, 
forego an extra figure on your bank account 
in order that the workmen and their families 

186 


Father and Son 


may continue to have sugar in their coffee 
and butter on their bread!” 

“Sugar in their coffee — fiddlesticks!” re- 
torted Mr. Middleton contemptuously. 

“You’re using fine phrases, Phil, but not 
common sense. The men will have plenty 
of sugar for their coffee and butter for their 
bread if they don’t waste their wages on beer, 
or throw them away in other directions. I 
know them better than you seem to. For 
the most part they are an improvident lot. 
They seldom have anything to show for their 
time-checks three days after pay day.” 

“They find plenty of places to put their 
money, I have no doubt,’^ said Philip; “and 
if some of them do spend a little money 
foolishly, they do not differ in that particular 
from plenty of other people who have more 
of it. That’s certainly no excuse for lessen- 
ing the amount they have to spend.” 

“ Well, we’re not looking for excuses,” 
replied his father. “They’re not necessary.” 
Then decisively: “This thing is done, Phil, 
and it isn’t going to be undone. Since you’ve 
taken upon yourself to act as an emissary of 
the union I will do you the honor of recognizing 
it to the extent of giving you an answer as 
its representative. Go back and tell the men 

187 


A Captain of Industry 


that the wage cut goes; that it will neither 
be rescinded nor will there be any modifica- 
tion of it. And tell them, further, that we 
will receive no further communications or 
listen to any further demands from the union. 
Our contractual relations are with the men, 
not with the union, and only with the men 
personally will we have any dealings in the 
future. 

“And, Phil,” he added in an admonitory 
tone as he seated himself at his desk, “let 
this be the end of your absurd and ridiculous 
association with the workmen. I want you 
to get out of the mill — get out of the union. 
We can’t afford to have a man of your peculiar 
notions mixing with the men and setting 
them at cross-purposes with us. I see now 
that Mr. Hartland was quite right when he 
opposed your working in the mill in the first 
place. But I never dreamed of your giving 
us any trouble. I thought you had too much 
sense. You should have sense enough, Phil, 
to see that you can’t carry water on both 
shoulders in the way you’re trying to do. 
The time will come when much of the respon- 
sibility of the ’s management will 



fall on your 


and you’ll never 


make a success of this business unless you 


188 


Father and Son 


get over your foolish and callow altruism. 
Don’t be over-solicitous for the workmen or 
waste your sympathy on them. They’ll get 
along all right in their own way. You won’t 
owe them anything except what you’ve agreed 
to pay them for their day’s work. 

‘^Now leave me, Phil,” he said coldly, 
“and let me get a lot of this stuff out of the 
way that’s on my desk. I’ve wasted too 
much time this morning already.” 

“I’m sorry to have to take any more of 
your time, father,” said Philip determinedly; 
^‘but it will not be wasted. The situation is 
more serious, I think, than you suspect. The 
men are, as I told you, very much wrought 
up over this matter. I have encouraged 
them to expect some concessions from the 
company, and if I go back to them empty- 
handed it will simply precipitate a strike. 
The company can ill afford this; it can much 
better afford to raise wages.” 

“If you talk of what we can and can’t 
afford,” returned his father, heatedly, “I tell 
you we can’t afford to take water in this 
thing. If we give an inch now, we’ll have 
to give an ell by and by. The company can 
better afford to fight the union than sur- 
render to it or accede to any of its demands. 

189 


A Captain of Industry 

If you have encouraged the men to expect 
any concessions from us, you can square 
yourself by going back and discouraging such 
expectation. Because you have committed a 
blunder is no reason why you should persist 
in it, or that the company should support 
you in it.” 

“I have not blundered!” cried Philip, 
giving rein to a combative impulse. “The 
company has blundered; and it will commit 
a still greater blunder if it does not now 
meet the men in a friendly spirit and try to 
come to an amicable agreement with them.” 

Mr. Middleton was plainly nettled. Turn- 
ing around in his chair so that he faced his 
son, he said, with fist doubled emphatically 
upon his knee : 

“See here, Phil! Enough of this! The 
company needs you at your desk more than 
it needs your advice. If a blunder has been 
made the responsibility is mine, not yours. 
You are not running this business — not yet; 
and, unless you acquire more business sense 
than you have now, you never will run it. 
What I have said is final. The only terms 
we propose to make with the men are em- 
braced in the new wage scale. If they don’t 
want to accept let them call for their time.” 

190 


Father and Son 


Having delivered himself of what he sup- 
posed put a period to the discussion, Mr. 
Middleton swung back to his desk, took up 
a paper cutter and viciously attacked a large 
sealed packet which lay to his hand, his 
temper, the while, finding vent in angry 
mutterings. 

Philip, however, did not go. Instead, he 
sat down at the table in the room, seized a 
pen and hastily scratched off a few lines upon 
a writing-pad that lay on the table. The 
determination depicted on his face seemed 
to be communicated to his pen, which scraped 
harshly over the paper and with an ominous 
sound. 

Rising from the table he tore the written 
sheet from the pad, stepped over to his father 
and placed it on his desk in front of him. 

It was his resignation of his position with 
the company! 

His father read the paper and then sat 
and stared at it for a moment in apparent 

this mean.^” he gasped in 

dismay. 

‘‘Just what it says,” replied Philip calmly. 
“I am not likely to acquire any better or 
different business sense than I have now, 
191 


stupefaction. 
“What does 


A Captain of Industry 

and so am simply anticipating a consequence 
that you think likely to result from that 
fact.” 

Mr. Middleton was furious. Snatching up 
the resignation he tore it to pieces and threw 
it into the waste-basket. 

“You fool!” he cried, rising from his chair 
and pacing the floor. “Do you know what 
you are doing ? Do you know what it means 
for you to leave the company ? Do you 
wish to surrender all claim to my future 
bounty ? You are my son, and I must protect 
you from your own folly. Go back to your 
desk sir!*^ 

“No!” said Philip firmly. “You have my 
resignation. If you wish me to recall it, 
let me go back to the men and tell them that 
the wage cut will be rescinded. I may not 
know all that it means to leave the company, 
but I do know what it means to remain with 
it if its present policy toward the workmen 
is to be continued. It means that I shall 
be supporting and profiting by a policy 
which my conscience does not approve.” 

“Your conscience!” Mr. Middleton’s lip 
curled scornfully. “You seem to be long on 
conscience but short on common sense.” 
Then, testily: “I’m blessed if I know where 

192 


Father and Son 


you get your absurd sentimentalism from.” 

“ I don^t think you need to feel any respon- 
sibility for it,” Philip replied with just a touch 
of sarcasm in his voice. Then in a softened 
tone: “Perhaps I get it from my mother. 
I never knew ner, but I have always loved 
her.” 

It was a body-blow, though unintended. 

A momentarily poignant remembrance of 
his early loss caused Mr. Middleton’s face 
to pale. He clutched his chair for support 
and then sank into it, breathing heavily. 

“Your mother, boy,” he cried hoarsely, 
“had she lived, would never have crossed me 
the way her son is doing now!” 

“No,” assented Philip, with emotion, “for 
had she lived it would not have been neces- 
sa^.” 

Down deep in his heart Mr. Middleton 
must have felt the truth of this. Had she 
lived to rule over him with the sanction of 
love’s law, would he, indeed, have become 
so completely absorbed in money-getting; so 
narrowed in his sympathies that charity, 
equity and mercy made but feeble appeal 
against the spirit of gain that mastered him? 

It may have been the consciousness of this 
that now served to embitter him. 

193 


A Captain of Indmtry 

“No, it would not have been necessary!” 
he cried fiercely. “Nor would you think it 
necessary now if you were not deluded by 
your highfalutin notions about conscience and 
duty Duty? Do you owe no duty to me, 
sir ? What claims to your consideration have 
the workmen as compared with mine? All 
that you have I have given you, and much of 
what you will have in the future will come 
from me. Gratitude, if nothing else, should 
impel you to obedience!” 

“ I shall always be grateful for what I have 
received at your hands, father,” said Philip 
with feeling; “and if I do not obey you now 
it is because obedience would demand of me 
the sacrifice of what I hold dearer than your 
favor.” 

“Go, then!” cried his father, springing 
from his chair and pointing to the door, his 
anger reaching its climacteric of rage. “Go! 
But know that when you leave the company 
you leave my roof! Go, if you will; try life 
on your own account, and see if you will be 
as generous with your own money as you 
are with mine! Take conscience and duty 
with you, mix them well with your business, 
and find out for yourself what poor com- 
mercial assets they are, and what excellent 

194 



** Go, then ! Go! ” 










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Father and Son 


passports to the poorhouse! Go, and feed 
on Husks, if you will, but don’t come back 
until you are ready to come on your knees 
for my forgiveness!” 

“As you will, father,” said Philip quietly. 
And turning on his heel he left the room. 

Half an hour later his father emerged from 
his private office and found him gone! 


195 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise. In which, 
ALSO, Mr. Hartland Shears a Lamb 
— so He Thinks 


On leaving his father’s private oflfice, 
Philip went straight to his desK, gathered up 
a few private papers and closed it. He then 
went to the safe, opened it, and took out his 
certificates of stock in the company (fifty 
shares) and put them in his pocket. Then 
going over to Mr. Cosgrove, the company’s 
secretary, he handed him his desk key. 

“Give this to my successor, Mr. Cosgrove, 
for I am leaving the company,” he said. 

“Leaving the company!” Mr. Cosgrove 
exclaimed aghast. 

“Yes. Father and I have had a 
out.” 

“You’ll come back, though, won’t you?” 
said Mr. Cosgrove in a voice in which there 
was a note of pleading. 

“I guess not,” replied Philip. “The con- 
ditions father has imposed for my return are 
such as to make it extremely improbable.” 

196 


Partings^ Sad and Otherwise 


“I don’t know how I’m going to get along 
without you,” said Mr. Cosgrove ruefully. 

“ Perhaps the president of the company 
will be able to advise you on that point, 
answered Philip somewhat sarcastically. At 
the same time he shook hands with the 
secretary warmly as he bade him good-bye; 
and taking a parting and not unregretful 
look about the room that for a half-dozen 
years had been the scene of his labors, he 
walked out, leaving the secretary to wondering 
speculation as to the cause of this most 
unexpected event. 

Leaving the office building Philip went 
into the mill. One of the first men he en- 
countered was Superintendent Mitchell. Ex- 
tending his hand he said: 

“Good-bye, Mr. Mitchell. I am leaving 
the company to-day, and so shall be compelled 
to give up my job in the mill.” 

that so.^” exclaimed Mitchell, taking 
Philip’s outstretched hand and giving it a 
vise-like grip. “Well, well! this is kind o’ 
suddent, ain’t it.^^” 

“Yes, it is rather sudden, I must confess.” 

“Well,” said Mitchell, “it ain’t anny of 
my business to ask ye why y’re lavin’, but 
mebbe ye’ve been too much on the side o’ 

197 


A Captain of Industry 

the min about their pay to suit some of the 
people over there” — ^jerking his head in the 
direction of the oflfice building, and looking 
at Philip shrewdly. 

“Well, maybe something like that is at the 
bottom of it,” replied Philip smiling. 

“ I thought so,” said Mitchell, with a short 
laugh. “ Well,” he said, giving Philip a 
cordial slap on the shoulder, “ye’ve played 
square with the b’ys and they’re all yer frinds, 
ivery wan of thim, an’ I wish ye good luck 
wheriver ye go.” 

“ Thank you for saying so,” said Philip. 

“An’ if ye iver want a ricommind as a 
roller I’ll give ye a good wan,” said Mitchell, 
with a broad grin. 

“All right. Thanks!” said Philip with a 
laugh, as he turned and went on toward the 
rolls to do a still harder thing, which was to 
take leave of Waters and Ten wick. 

“ Waters,” he said gravely, after having 
called him to one side, “Pm going on a 
vacation — a long one. In fact I don’t know 
when I shall come back.” 

Waters paled and passed his hand over his 
face in his usual gesture of agitation. 

“I see how ’tis,” he said sadly. “You’ve 
been thrown down trying to help us.” 

198 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

“Oh, well, if I have I’ll get up again,” 
said Philip in a tone he meant to be cheerful. 
“But I hate to see you go back to your long 
hours again.” 

“ They won’t be as long as they were before 
you came into the mill, sir,” said Waters 
with feeling, “for I’m not quite the same 
man I was then. But I’d rather put three 
more on top of the twelve than have any 
trouble come to you, sir.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Philip, 
cheerfully. “I’ll get along all right.” And 
then with a laugh, “I have a trade now, you 
know, that I can fall back on.” 

“Sure, you’re a first-class roller all right,” 
said Waters smiling; “but I shouldn’t like to 
see you compelled to earn your living in a 
rolling mill.” 

“I might do worse,” said Philip, half 
seriously. “But I probably sha’n’t be com- 
pelled to take up the tongs. I have some 
money; enough, I think, to push that inven- 
tion of yours, and perhaps we shall both 
make some money out of that.” 

Waters’s face brightened. “I had not 
thought of that,” he said. “I hope you can 
do something with it, for your own sake, 
anyway.” 


199 


A Captain of Industry 

“ Well, I am going to try.” 

He then shook hands with Waters warmly, 
and walked with him over to the rolls where 
Ten wick was standing. 

Out of earshot though Tenwick was, Philip’s 
apparently earnest talk with Waters had not 
been lost upon him, and the final hand- 
shake gave him a foreboding of the unwel- 
come truth. Tears came into his eyes when 
Philip confirmed his suspicions. 

“I sh’d ’a knowd it couldn’t last,” he said 
in a broken voice; “but that don’t make 
your goin’ any the easier.” 

He paused a moment, struggling to control 
his feelings. Then leaning heavily upon his 
grappling tongs and half averting his face, 
he continued: 

“Mr. Middleton, people call me childish; 
and I guess mebbe that’s what I am, fur I 
ain’t quit actin’ and feelin’ just like I did 
when I was a kid. Your cornin’ into the 
mill and goin’ away again takes me back to 
somethin’ ’at happened when I was a little 
bit of a tad just able to toddle around. Dad 
brought home a little dog one night fur me 
an’ my little sister to play with. We must 
’a been awful poor them days, fur we lived 
in two rooms upstairs in a house in a part 

200 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

o’ town where a carriage was a mighty uncom- 
mon sight. We didn’t have many play- 
things, me an’ my sister didn’t, an’ I can’t 
tell you what that little dog was to us. We’d 
play with him by the hour, he as fond of us 
seemin’ly as we was o’ him. Well, we hadn’t 
had him only a little while when one day I 
looked out o’ the window and see a fine carriage 
cornin’ up the street, a man with a high hat 
up on a high seat a-drivin’. He stopped his 
horses at our house, got down an’ opened 
the carriage door, an’ out comes a young 
woman all dressed up as fine as you ever see. 
She stopped a minute or two downstairs, 
to ask some questions likely, an’ then she 
come up an’ knocked at our door. Mother 
opened the door an’ in stepped this fine lady 
holdin’ her skirts high, an’ what did she do 
but just grab that little dog ’thout any ifs 
or an’s, only sayin’ the dog belonged to her, 
an’ then turnin’ an’ skippin’ down the stairs 
again, me an’ my little sister runnin’ after 
her a-hollerin’ an’ a-cryin’. Mother pulled 
us back, tellin’ us the lady was the owner of 
the dog. I didn’t see what difference that 
made. We needed the dog more’n she did, 
an’ she might ’a left him with us or promised 
to send us another; but we never saw the 

201 


A Captain of Industry 

lady or the dog again, ner never heard from 
her after that. 

“Now, of course, Mr. Middleton, your 
goin’ away ain’t just like losin’ that little 
dog,” said Tenwick with a half smile, con- 
scious of the not very flattering parallel. 
“Tain’t that; although I couldn’t feel much 
worse than I did then. But it ain’t that 
I’m thinkin’ of so much. It’s what you’ve 
been to us here in the mill. You’ve been so 
different from that young woman, sir. I 
ain’t never got over that little dog affair. I 
ain’t seen much o’ rich people in my time, 
but I growed up with the idee that they 
was of a sort to take things away from us. 
You ain’t been like that, sir; ner you ain’t 
been like most of ’em even when they do 
want to give us anything, you ain’t stood 
off an’ thro wed it at us. You ain’t held yer 
skirts high fur fear you’d touch us. You’ve 
come right among us. You’ve give us more’n 
anything else, sir; you’ve give us yourself. 
An’ I tell you, sir” — ^this with a burst of 
feeling — “ we ’preciate it even if we can’t tell 
it ner show it; an’ if we are a bit cut up about 
our wages just now, we’d be willin’ to work for 
less if it ’ud only keep you with us.” 

Philip was touched. His own eyes were 

202 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

moist as he took Tenwick’s hand and wrung it. 

“God bless you, Tom!” he said feelingly. 
“Your little dog never came back, but maybe 
I will some day. I’m glad to know that 
I’ve been of some comfort to you; but my 
being with you in the mill has done me good, 
too.” 

And as Philip stood for a moment, holding 
Tom’s hand and looking into his homely 
but honest face, he had a sudden and vivid 
consciousness of human brotherhood, and 
his own culture, education and social position 
seemed not such great barriers to fellowship 
with the unlettered but noble-hearted man 
who stood before him. 

Hardly master of his feelings, he hurried 
from the mill, stopping only long enough to 
say to Waters that he would make a report 
by letter to the union touching the matter 
that had been intrusted to him the night 
before, and requesting Waters to so advise 
any of the men who might make inquiries 
about it. 

Waters and Tenwick made sad work of 
the next bar that they put through the rolls. 
They missed grips with their tongs. Their 
swinging movements were ill-timed. The bar 
repeatedly missed the grooves, and doubled 

203 


A Captain of Industry 

up, req^uiring the constant use of the hammers 
to straighten it. 

When they had finally put it through the 
last roll they cast a furtive glance at each 
other. It was enough to show that the same 
thought was uppermost in the minds of 
both. Tom dropped his tongs and seized 
Waters’s hand, the tears standing in his eyes. 

“He’ll come back, don’t you think?” he 
said with a convulsive sob. 

“Let’s hope he will, Tom,” replied Waters 
consolingly. 

Oh, the consolation of such a hope! Amid 
all the sad partings among all the sons and 
daughters or men how that hope rims with 
light the cloud of sorrow that gathers dark 
upon the horizon of life! 

Philip took a car for town and on reaching 
the city went straight to the Commercim 
Bank. Asking for Mr. Hartland he was 
directed to the back room of the bank. He 
entered this room just as a man with a crest- 
fallen countenance was about to come out. 
This man was, in fact, one of the human 
flies that Mr. Hartland had been exercising 
his spider instincts upon. He had come to 
tiy to get a renewal or at least an extension 
or the mortgage that Mr. Hartland held upon 

204 V 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

his home. But Mr. Hartland was not now 
renewing mortgages. He was foreclosing 
them. He appreciated fully the present tight- 
ness of the money market, and how difficult 
it would be for his debtors to get hold of the 
necessary money either to pay off their 
mortgages or redeem their property after 
foreclosure; and so, having seen to it in the 
beginning that the margin of value of the 
property over the loan was a large one, he 
was now insisting upon immediate payment 
of principal and interest on mortgages when 
due, and promptly instituting foreclosure pro- 
ceedings where there was a default. There 
was hardly an issue of the Ellerton Argus 
in which one of his foreclosure advertisements 
was not running. 

The man with crestfallen countenance 
passed out, and Philip, with a formal “good- 
morning,” took a chair facing Mr. Hartland, 
who was seated at a heavy walnut table in 
the middle of the room. 

He was a thick, dumpy-looking man, was 
Mr. Hartland, with a large head which was 
set into his shoulders, giving him a sort of 
hunched look. The badness on the top of 
his head was somewhat concealed by the 
sprays of gray hair which came up from both 

205 


A Captain of Industry 


sides and interlaced. The lower part of his 
face was covered by a close-trimmed gray 
beard which was matched by a pair of bushy 
eyebrows that almost hid his small, piercing 
eyes. An affection of the orbicular muscle 
of the eyelid caused his left eye to stay at a 
half-close, giving him the appearance of 
continually winking — a thing quite incon- 
sistent with Mr. Hartland’s character, for 
he had little sense of humor. His physi- 
ognomy was not, indeed, prepossessing, and 
might at some time in his life have suggested 
to him the soliloquy of the Duke of Gloucester. 
He certainly was not made to court an amor- 
ous looking-glass, and therefore had, perhaps, 
determined to prove a — money-maker. 

“Mr. Hartland,” said Philip, proceeding at 
once to business, “ I resigned my position 
with the company this morning, and am going 
to leave the city. I wish, therefore, to dispose 
of my mill stock. I have fifty shares. Do 
you want to buy them.?” 

Schooled as Mr. Hartland wr ~ ■“ 



pression of feeling, he found 


difiicult to conceal his exultation over this 
announcement. Ever since Philip went 
into the mill as a workman he had been a 
thorn in Mr. Hartland’s side. He had been 
206 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

altogether too solicitous about the welfare of 
the men to suit him; and with such a solic- 
itude he was a constantly disturbing element 
(in Mr. Hartland’s eyes) in the mill manage- 
ment. Mr. Hartland found Mr. Middleton 
far more tractable than he expected to find 
Philip when the latter should assume, as he 
no doubt would in the future, if he remained 
with the company, a measure of responsibility 
and authority in the management of the mills. 

Philip had, therefore, come to the proper 
party to dispose of his stock. Mr. Hartland 
was quite ready to take it. Aside from his 
desire to increase his stock holdings — as well 
for a profitable investment as to augment his 
authority in the company — he realized that 
if Philip parted with his stock his relations 
with the company would be effectually severed. 

At the same time Mr. Hartland saw the 
)r a good bargain, 
you want for your stock he 
asked without the slightest show of eagerness. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” replied Philip. “ I’ve 
never tried to sell any before. You know 
better than I do what it is worth.” 

It was very likely that Mr. Hartland did 
have such superior knowledge. But did Philip 
think that he would give what he knew the 

m 


opportunity f 
^‘What do 


A Ca'ptain of Industry 

stock was worth if he could get it for less? 
If he did he had something to learn about 
that gentleman’s way of doing business. Mr. 
Hartland did know pretty well what Ellerton 
mill stock was worth. He knew that it was 
exceedingly valuable stock. For the past ten 
years it had not paid less than twenty per cent 
and had paid as high as fifty per cent annually. 
But, after the manner of the shrewd trafficker 
who depreciates the article he wishes to buy, 
he said carelessly: 

“Well, the stock isn’t worth as much as 
it was a year or two ago. Times are hard 
now, and money is tight. I might take the 
stock, but I shouldn’t want to give more than 
par for it.” 

Philip reflected a moment. “ The company 
expects to pay a semi-annual dividend of ten per 
cent next month, I believe,” he said. “If you 
take my stock you will demand and accept that 
dividend on this stock, I presume?” 

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Hartland, not 
understanding the drift of such an apparently 
unnecessary question. 

“I think I ought to have that dividend, 
then,” said Philip; “and if you will give me 
the par value of the stock with the amount of 
that dividend added, you may have it,” 

208 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

“Whew!” Mr. Hartland said to himself. 
Here was a lamb, surely. Ellerton mill stock 
was not on the market; but if it had been 
it would have been quoted at not less than 
three hundred and fifty; and here was a holder 
of the stock letting it go at par with a paltry 
ten per cent added! 

Still showing no eagerness, Mr. Hartland 
lost no time in proceeding to put the shears 
upon this little lamb. 

“I understand, then,” he said, “that you 
offer your shares for $5500 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Hartland with a show of 
hesitation, “as you are going away and are 
anxious to dispose of your stock, I don’t 
mind accommodating you. I guess I can 
come out even on it at what you offer it for. 
Have you the certificates with you 

Philip produced them. 

Mr. Hartland looked them over carefully. 

“All right,” he said. “Fill out and sign 
the assignments on the back.” 

Philip drew up to the table and filled out 
the assignments while Mr. Hartland stepped 
to the door leading into the cashier’s room 
and called the cashier in. 

“ Mr, Brown, Mr. Middleton is transferring 

309 


A Captain of Industry 

to me the stock represented by these certifi- 
cates, and I would like to have you sign your 
name as a witness to the transfer/’ 

After Philip had filled out and signed the 
transfers, the cashier duly aflfixed his name 
to the assignments as a witness. 

Mr. Hartland took up the certificates, 
scrutinized the assignments and signatures, 
and, apparently satisfied, handed them to the 
cashier, saying: 

“Please have these transfers entered on the 
company’s stock register, Mr. Brown.” 

The cashier took the certificates and retired. 

Mr. Hartland then took out his check 
book and drew his check to Philip’s order 
for $5500 and handed it to him. 

“Do you want that certified?” he asked, 
prompted to a little pleasantry by the exceed- 
ingly good bargain he thought he had made. 

“No, I guess your check is good for that 
amount,” replied Philip in the same vein. 
“But I shall soon find out, for I am going to 
deposit it right away and draw against it.” 

guess you’ll find it good,” said Mr. 
Hartland with a. grim smile. “None of my 
paper has gone to protest yet, and a good 
deal of it has been for larger amounts than 
you have there.” 


210 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

“Well,” returned Philip, “you have the 
advantage over most men; you can draw on 
the bank’s funds in a pinch.” 

Mr. Hartland gave Philip a quick, searching 
look. A joke, of course. 

“Ha, ha!” he laughed. “That’s so.” 

But there was little merriment in his laugh, 
so little, indeed, that the joke must have been 
of dubious relish. 

Now, having sheared the lamb, Mr. Hart- 
land was quite ready to have it run away 
and play; so he turned to the papers on his 
table, saying : 

“Well, good-bye, Phil. You’ll be back in 
Ellerton again, I presume, after you’ve spent 
your money.” 

“That’s quite possible, Mr. Hartland. It 
isn’t such a bad town to raise money in if you 
happen to have a little stock you want to 
unload.” 

With this parting shot Philip left the room, 
leaving Mr. Hartland to wonder if this last 
remark was intended as a joke, too. 

Now, it is quite within the bounds of 
possibility that Philip, from his knowledge of 
the temper of the mill workmen, may nave 
become apprehensive that the obstinate atti- 
tude whicn the company seemed bent upon 
211 


A Captain of Industry 

assuming toward them might bring about a 
state of things that would make his stock less 
valuable, and that this moved him, as a 
matter of prudence, to dispose of it. If so, 
it was not likely that he had any qualms of 
conscience in unloading his shares upon Mr. 
Hartland at a fair price; for he was sure that 
Mr. Hartland, more than his father, was 
responsible for the company’s attitude. 

If it may seem a little strange that a man 
like Mr. Hartland should not have thought 
of the possibility of the fall in value of mill 
stock from the above-mentioned cause, and so 
been disinclined to take Philip’s stock off 
his hands, it should be remembered that 
shrewd, cunning and grasping men have been 
known to sometimes overreach themselves; 
that incessant money-grubbing so narrows 
the sympathies and blunts the moral sense in 
men that they become blind to the larger 
relations and ultimate reachings of things; 
that is to say, that like certain well-known 
animals of grubbing propensities they often 
do not see any further than their own noses. 

So that, if it turned out that in this little 
stock transaction in the back parlor of the 
Commercial Bank Philip really held the shears 
and Mr. Hartland was the lamb — or old 

213 


Partings^ Sad and Otherwise 

ram — why, then, this would only be another 
illustration of the fact that there are excep- 
tions to all rules; and that the children of 
light are sometimes wiser than the children 
of this world. 

From Mr. Hartland’s room Philip went to 
the receiving teller’s window and deposited 
the check. Then getting the exact amount 
of his account — for he had a snug sum on 
deposit besides the amount of Mr. Hartland’s 
check — he drew out necessary travelling money 
and bought exchange with all but $500 of the 
rest. For this $500 he drew his check payable 
to the treasurer of the mill workers’ union. 
This check he inclosed in a letter which he 
wrote later in the day, addressed to the 
members of the union, in which he advised 
them of the failure of his intercession in their 
behalf; but counselling them to patience and 
moderation in conduct to the end that they 
might yet after a time obtain for themselves 
concessions from the company that he had 
failed to get for them. He regretted, he 
wrote, that he could not remain with them 
to render them whatever aid he could in 
their present difficulty; but they could, of 
course, see that having severed his connection 
with the company, he had perfectly valid 

213 


A Captain of Industry 


reasons for leaving Ellerton. It w 



however, that his going away 


them as much as would his remaining to carry 
on an unfilial conflict with his own father. 

He closed his letter by saying that inasmuch 
as the main reason for the reduction of the 
wages of the men was that the company 
should be enabled to pay a dividend, he, as 
a stockholder, could show the sincerity of 
his opposition to such a policy in no better 
way than by turning back to the men the 
amount of that dividend on his stock, and 
he therefore inclosed his check for $500, 
which sum he directed should be placed to 
the credit of the emergency and sick-benefit 
fund of the union. 

On leaving the bank Philip went home. 
On the way to his room he met Edith on the 
stairs. 

“Hello!” she cried. “What brings you 
home at this time of day ?” 

“Something that will take me away again 
soon,” he answered gravely, putting his arm 
around her affectionately, “and for a long 
time. Come to my room, Edith.” 

Edith followed him to his room in appre- 
hensive expectancy. 

He closed the door and told her all. 


214 


Partings^ Sad and Otherwise 

“O Phil!” she cried, throwing her arms 
about his neck and bursting into tears. 
“You musn’t go! You can’t go! It’s all a 
mistake! Father didn’t mean it! Wait and 
let me see him!” 

Philip gently disengaged her arms. 

“Yes, I guess he meant it, Edith, but if 
he didn’t, I did. I simply can’t stay with 
the company with its present policy, and it 
looks as if that policy were fixed. It’s best 
that I should go away.” 

Finding her further entreaties unavailing to 
deter him from his purpose, Edith sat down 
disconsolately. 

“Where are you going, Phil?” she asked. 

A faint color came into Philip’s cheeks. 

“I don’t know where I shall land perma- 
nently,” he said somewhat evasively; “but 
when I do get settled I’ll write to you. Come, 
now, Edith, cheer up, and help me pack my 
things.” 

Somewhat consoled by the prospect of 
soon hearing from him, Edith went about 
the melancholy work of assisting him to pack 
his trunks and suit cases. 

When the packing was completed, Philip 
telephoned to an expressman to come and get 
his baggage and take it to the station. Then 

215 


A Captain of Industry 

giving his sister a last embrace, he sought out 
Mrs. Middleton, while Edith went to her 
own room and had another cry by herself. 

If Philip’s parting from Mrs. Middleton 
was a less trying ordeal than the one he had 
just passed through, it must be remembered 
that she was his stepmother. But this — 
when we take into account the many excellent 
stepmothers upon this broad planet — is not 
so much to the point. Not so much so as 
the fact that while the relations between 
Philip and his stepmother had for years been 
necessarily close, their sympathies as regarded 
each other were of a kind that might properly 
have been termed “imperfect.” Partings in 
such cases, while they may be attended with 
some regrets, have their counterbalancing 
consolations. 

If, therefore, Philip’s leave-taking from his 
stepmother was somewhat abbreviated and 
more the performance of a duty than sus- 
ceptible of other characterization, the circum- 
stances of the case may excuse him. And 
if he likewise failed to detail to her the events 
of the day that had led up to his determina- 
tion to leave home, for this he may also be 
excused, since he may have desired to spare 
himself the comments which she would, in 

216 


Partings^ Sad and Otherwise 

all probability, have made upon his behavior. 
He may have thought, too, that his father 
would be quite likely to enlighten her as to 
such events, accompanying the recital of 
them with certain comments of his own 
thereon that would doubtless be quite agree- 
able to her ear. 

But if Philip felt no great pulling at his 
heart strings in parting from his stepmother, 
he did have such a feeling a little later when 
he emerged from the house. His dog — a 
beautiful animal, a cross between a shepherd 
and a Newfoundland — came bounding toward 
him. He now had a better appreciation of 
Tenwick’s feelings when his dog was taken 
from him. 

Philip had become possessed of this dog 
several years before, and under rather peculiar 
circumstances. Walking homeward one even- 
ing, he came upon some boys who were 
engaged in attaching a tin can to the dog’s 
tail, a pastime from which boys seem to get 
considerable amusement, but the humor of 
which, it is safe to say, no dog similarly 
circumstanced has ever been able to fathom. 
Sharply lecturing the boys for their cruelty — 
for the sight of cruelty to dumb animals 
pained him, more, even, than the sight of 

217 


A Captain of Industry 

cruelty to human beings — ^he drove them 
away and released the dog, then little more 
than a puppy. After stopping a moment to 
pat the little fellow’s head he went on his 
way. He turned about shortly to see that 
the boys were not renewing operations, and 
found that the dog was following him at a 
short distance. The little fellow now crouched 
upon the ground and half crawled, half 
dragged himself toward Philip in that appar- 
ently abject spirit frequently shown by his 
human prototypes under oppression. 

“You poor little tramp!” said Philip com- 
passionately. “Do you want to come with 
me? Well, a good scrubbing and a square 
meal wouldn’t hurt you, I guess. Come on, 
then.” And as the dog, under his encourage- 
ment, came up to him, still in humble and 
suppliant attitude, Philip again reached down 
and patted him upon the head. The dog now 
trotted joyfully at his side until he arrived 
home. He demurred a little to the scrubbing 
and combing which Philip had the stable man 
give him, but as he was bountifully fed 
immediately afterwards he must have come to 
associate the ^scrubbing and combing with the 
feeding, for he was ever afterwards commend- 
ably patient under the former operation. 

218 


Partings, Sad and Otherwise 

Philip concluded to keep him, as he had 
no dog at that time. Never was man better 
paid for kindness to a dog. Affectionate as 
dogs of his breed always are, Prince — for that 
was the name Philip gave him — had con- 
ceived an unusual measure of affection for his 
master. What pleasure unalloyed Philip had 
taken in his companionship in their glorious 
tramps into the country together! What 
delight had he taken in watching his life- 
lustful gambols as he ran hither and thither 
in sheer inconsequence of movement, nosing 
at mere nothings, dashing into the water of 
running brooks and chopping up a few mouth- 
fuls of water, then up again and after the 
flitting butterfly or the low-perching bird, 
not with sinister motives of capture but for 
the pure joy of the chase, ever and anon 
running back to him for a kindly word or a 
friendly slap on the back! 

And now they were to part! Let those 
imagine Philip’s feelings who have owned and 
loved a dog, for they alone can. 

Philip fell upon his knees and caught the 
faithful animal around the neck, a suppressed 
sob escaping him. A peculiar sound hard to 
describe came from Prince’s throat as he 
pressed his nose close against his master’s 

219 


A Captain of Industry 

face. He seemed to feel instinctively that 
something untoward was about to happen. 

Philip arose, and giving the dog a last 
affectionate stroke, started to go. Prince 
gave a low, pitiful whine and took a hesitant 
step or two after him. 

^No, Prince, you can’t go with me. Edith 
is your mistress now. I’ve given you to her, 
for I know she will take good care of you for 
my sake.” 

Prince watched him go out of the gate and 
descend the hill, and kept his eyes riveted 
^on him as he passed down the street, 
mien Philip turned the corner of the street 
he cast his eyes back to the house which was 
soon to be lost to his view. His look was 
answered by a sharp bark which was length- 
ened out into a mournful howl. It was 
Prince’s good-bye, as fervent and sad as any 
that Philip had ever known. 

As the train carried him southward that 
night, the full realization of his severance 
from familiar scenes and familiar faces and 
the thoughtful outlook upon an unknown 
and uncertain future, made sorrow heavy 
upon him. And that night, too, back at the 
home he had left, there was more than one 
restless pillow; and far into the night the 

220 


PartingSy Sad and Otherwise 

faithful Prince in long and mournful howls 
told out his grief over the loss of a loving 
master. 


221 


CHAPTER XIX 


Philip is Remembered in his 
Father’s Will 

Philip had bought a ticket for St. Louis. 
From what has already appeared in this 
narrative it will not, perhaps, seem strange 
that his eyes should have been turned toward 
this city when he made up his mind to leave 
home, nor that the prospect of an indefinite 
stay in that city should have been pleasing 
enough to somewhat temper the sorrow he 
felt in leaving Ellerton. And if it be sus- 
pected in some quarters that thi 



afforded the controlling motive 


renunciation — why, then, such a suspicion 
will not be discountenanced, lest faith m the 
veracity of this narrative be weakened in the 
minds of those who could never be brought 
to believe that any one ever acts from entirely 
disinterested and conscientious motives. 

Without, therefore, inquiring closely into 
the psychology of Philip’s actions, let it be 
repeated, simply, that he bought a ticket for 
St. Louis ; and upon his arrival m that flourish- 


222 


His Father's Will 


ing metropolis he lost no time in establishing 
himself. Having made satisfactory living 
arrangements, he opened a steel and iron 
brokerage office in one of the centrally located 
office buildings in the city. 

These things having been seen to, it may 
further be stated that he also lost no time in 
making his presence in the city known to at 
least one of his acquaintances there, who, 
indeed, appeared to be very glad to see him, 
and gave him the most unequivocal encourage- 
ment to call again. 

Let us now leave Philip energetically and 
enthusiastically pushing his new business, 
and with equal enthusiasm availing himself 
of the social privileges above suggested, and 
return to Ellerton. 

It is needless to say that Philip’s sudden 
departure from home and the circumstances 
inducing to it, which soon became known, 
furnished appetizing food for Ellerton gossip. 
Opinion on the merits of the matter was 
pretty much to the effect that he had done 
an exceedingly foolish and quixotic thing. 
George Hartland was the most pronounced 
exponent of this view of the case. To him 
Philip’s taking sides with the mill workmen 
in their controversy with the company over 

223 


A Captain of Industry 

the matter of wages was sufficiently absurd; 
but his resigning his position with the com- 

f )any and leaving home — this to young Hart- 
and’s mind capped the climax of absurdity 
and foolhardiness. He doubtless realized how 
helpless he himself would have been had he 
cut loose from his father’s leading-strings 
and tried conclusions with the world on his 
own account. If he ever reflected that “ home- 
keeping youth have ever homely wits,” he 
knew, on the other hand, that they sometimes 
had full pocketbooks; and this was something 
that the home-leaving Valentines were never 
sure of. At all events, young Hartland would 
have been little disposed to sharpen his wits 
by taking any such chances. 

But while criticism of Philip’s course was 
generally adverse, there were a sober few in 
Ellerton who were of a different mind about 
it. These few had looked approvingly and 
admiringly upon his self-imposed work in the 
mills, appreciating how such a course made 
for a better understanding and more friendly 
relations between the company and its em- 
ployees. They were ready now to honor his 
motives and applaud his conduct in the stand 
he had taken in behalf of the workmen, and 
looked upon his leaving the company as a 

224 


His Father's Will 


misfortune, foreboding ill to that concern by 
reason of the virtue that had gone out of it. 

If Mr. Middleton, when he came out of 
his private oflfice and found that Philip had 
left his desk, as stated, had any lingering 
hope or expectation that he would return to 
his work, that hope and expectation were 
effectually dispelled when he reached home 
in the evening and learned that his son had 
packed up his belongings and gone away — 
where, neither Mrs. Middleton nor Edith 
could tell him. 

Smarting under the effect of Philip’s rebel- 
lious attitude at the office, and now more so 
from his sudden and unfilial departure, Mr. 
Middleton had a short but pointed interview 
with his wife and daughter. What he said 
took the shape of commands. Since Philip 
had proved recreant to his duty as a son; 
had tnrown off parental control and rebelled 
against parental authority, he must take the 
conseq^uences of his acts. He had forfeited 
his privileges as a son, and must no longer 
be allowed to claim them. As he had gone, 
let him stay. In no event should they sue 
for his return. Thenceforth let him be to 
them as one dead — Mr. Middleton swallowed 
hard as he used this word — and as they 

225 


A Captain of Industry 

respected his authority and feared his dis- 
pleasure, let them forbear to ever again 
mention his son’s name in his presence. 

Mr. Middleton had no need to insist upon 
severity of attitude so far as Mrs. Middleton 
was concerned. She even bettered his ex- 
ample in her expressions of disapproval of 
Philip’s course. Secretly, she was not dis- 

f )leased at this alienation of her husband 
rom his son. For it must mean the dis- 
inheritance of Philip and the consequent 
augmentation of her own and her daughter’s 
portion. 

Poor Edith, distracted by a divided love, 
made a futile effort to mollify her father, and 
then went to her own room and had another 
cry. 

It was a dull dinner that evening at the 
Middleton’s, and, on Mr. Middleton’s part, 
a hurried breakfast the next morning. Edith 
did not appear at the breakfast table. She 
kept to her room, complaining of a headache. 
Mrs. Middleton’s appetite and spirits were, 
however, quite normal, and by a not at all 
counterfeited display of cheerfulness she tried 
to infuse into her husband some of that spirit 
of resignation with the present state of affairs 
which rested so easily upon herself. Her 

226 


His Father's Will 


efforts availed little, however, against the 
depressing effect of the empty chair opposite 
him at the other end of the table. 

When he reached the oflSce that morning 
he held a conference with Mr. Cosgrove, as 
a result of which another man was in the 
course of the day installed in Philip’s posi- 
tion as assistant secretary of the company. 
This was not at all to Mr. Cosgrove’s liking; 
but the company’s work must go on, and he 
received the most emphatic assurances from 
Mr. Middleton that Philip would not return 
to the company. 

In the afternoon Mr. Middleton paid a 
visit to his lawyer, Mr. Willard, of the firm 
of Willard & Flitwood, the leading law firm 
in the city. 

Mr. Willard was counsel for the steel com- 
pany and also one of its directors. He had, 
m fact, incorporated the company, and, 
naturally, came in on the ground floor for a 
good block of its stock. The great apprecia- 
tion of this stock (most of which he had dis- 
posed of, and at very good figures) as well 
as the steady increase of the law business 
of the firm, had brought Mr. Willard to that 
position of financial independence where he 
could select both his business and his clients. 

227 


A Captain of Industry 

He now eschewed all active litigation in the 
courts, allowing his partner to try most of 
the firm’s cases, while he confined himself 
to the less arduous and much more congenial 
work of oflBce consultation, briefing important 
cases for the appellate and supreme courts, 
and argument of important cases on appeal. 

His partner, Mr. Flitwood, was a thin, 
wiry, aggressive man, well adapted to the 
rough-and-tumble of nisi prius work. There 
was, probably, a close connection between this 
division of the firm’s work and the physical 
appearance and characteristics of the two men. 
Mr. Flitwood seemed to lose fiesh in about 
the same proportion that Mr. Willard took 
it on. The former was quick, alert, scrutiniz- 
ing, searching in manner; the latter quiet, 
suave and blandly insinuating. Mr. Flitwood 
always worked under pressure, and was given 
to worrying over his clients’ cases; Mr. 
Willard slowly and leisurely, and if there 
was any worrying to be done over a case he 
let his clients do it. A bristling, militant 
mustache sat well upon Mr. Flitwood’s upper 
lip. A pair of neatly trimmed, highly respect- 
able side-whiskers adorned Mr. Willard’s face, 
and were no inconsiderable aids to his digni- 
fied and portly bearing. His silk hat was im- 

228 


His Father^ s Will 


mensely becoming to Mr. Willard, but Mr. 
Flitwood must have apprehended the incon- 
gruity of such head-gear for himself, for he 
never wore one. 

These men had one thing in common, 
however. Both were good lawyers, and the 
services of the firm were much in demand 
not only in the local but also , in neighboring 
circuits. 

Mr. Middleton was Mr. Willard’s most 
important client, and he was not, therefore, 
kept waiting very long in the outer room after 
he had sent in his name to Mr. Willard. 

“Ah! How do you do, Mr. Middleton,” 
the lawyer said blandly, as he arose and 
extended his hand. “ Things must be moving 
smoothly with you these days, for you are 
quite a stranger at my oflBce.” 

“ That would seem to be a warranted 
inference,” replied Mr. Middleton, “for the 
fact that things are not moving very smoothly 
just now occasions my present visit to you. 
Mr. Willard, you probably remember this 
document,” drawing a paper from his pocket 
and handing it to him. 

Mr. Willard reseated himself at his desk, 
adjusted his eye-glasses and unfolded the 
paper. 


229 


A Captain of Industry 

“ Oh, yes, certainly — ^your will, Mr. Middle- 
ton; the one I drew for you about three years 
ago. And you want, I presume, to make 
some little changes in it.^^” 

“A very decided change, Mr. Willard. I 
want all mention of my son stricken out of 
it, and what I left to him to be equally divided 
between my wife and daughter.” 

Mr. Willard let the will fall upon his desk, 
took off his eye-glasses and looked at Mr. 
Middleton with as much astonishment in his 
face as he ever allowed to be depicted upon 
his habitually composed countenance. 

“ This surprises you, no doubt, Mr. Willard, 
but it is what I want done; and you will 
oblige me by making this change. I need 
only say to you that my son, by his recent 
conduct, has forfeited all claim to my bounty. 
He has just resigned his position with the 
company and thus thwarted my plans and 
purposes for his future; and this after lending 
aid and encouragement to the mill workmen 
in their rebellion against a necessary wage 
reduction. And yesterday he left home with- 
out a word as to where he was going.” 

Mr. Willard may have suspected that there 
was another side to this story, but he gave 
no hint of this ; nor did he attempt to dissuade 

230 


His Father's Will 


Mr. Middleton from his purpose. According 
to his conception of a lawyer's business, it 
was not for him to assume the position of a 
moral censor over his clients, but only to 
make effectual their intentions and desires 
by hedging them about with the necessary 
legal formalities. 

Quickly recovering from the very natural 
surprise at such a strange and unusual pro- 
ceeding, he again adjusted his eye-glasses 
and took up the will. After hastily running 
it over he put it down, again took off his 
eye-glasses, and after rubbing them a moment 
meditatively he said placidly: 

“Veiy well, Mr. Middleton. The change 
you wish made, however, is of so radical a 
character that it would be best accomplished, 
I think, by your making an entirely new will 
rather than by way of a supplementary 
codicil.” 

“That, of course, must be as you think 
best,” said Mr. Middleton. 

“Your purpose, then, is, I take it, to 
entirely disinherit your son.?” Mr. Willard 
continued in the same placid tone. 

“Yes, that is my purpose,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton, without, however, any great relish for 
this bald expression of it. 

231 


A Captain of Industry 

“Then, of course,” Mr. Willard went on, 
“you want your will in such shape as to 
preclude any contest over it, or, at all events, 
to safeguard against its being broken.” 

“Of course,” assented Mr. Middleton. “I 
don’t want a single loophole left for lawyers’ 
wits to make a driveway of.” 

“Just so,” said Mr. W^illard. “But you 
will recollect, Mr. Middleton, that you said 
you wanted all mention of your son stricken 
out of the will. Now, not to mention his 
name at all would be to leave just such a 
loophole as you wish to guard against. The 
law, I need hardly tell you, is exceedingly 
jealous of the rights of a testator’s close km, 
especially his children, and indulges every 
presumption in their favor. One such pre- 
sumption — according to a long line of cases 
— is that where a child is not mentioned in a 
will the testator has simply forgotten him ; such 
a presumption being deemed less violent than 
that he snould have intended to deny such 
child a share in his bounty. As to such 
child the testator will be held to have died 
intestate, and the child would be entitled to 
a child’s portion, as in cases of intestacy, and 
to a right of contribution against the devisees 
and legatees under the will to make up such 

232 


His Father's Will 


share. Now — ” 

“ Oh, well, you know how to get around 
that, I suppose,” Mr. Middleton broke in 
impatiently. Mr. Willard’s legal dissertation 
was strangely uninteresting to him. 

“I was about to say,” continued Mr. 
Willard blandly, not in the least disconcerted 
by the interruption, ‘‘that in a case of this 
kind it is wise for the testator to make to the 

E erson he desires to disinherit some small 
equest — a dollar, for example — which quite as 
effectually accomplishes his purpose, and at 
the same time rebuts the legal presumption 
that he has forgotten one who would naturally 
be a beneficiary under his will, but for whom 
he has failed to make provision.” 

“ Well, fix it that way, then, Mr. Willard,” 
said Mr. Middleton, rising, apparently in a 
hurry to get away. “When shall I call and 
execute the will 

“I guess I can have it ready for you to- 
morrow afternoon. But before you go, Mr. 
Middleton, we’d better run this over together 
and fix upon just how your new will is to 
read. You may, besides, want to make 
some other changes that will suggest them- 
selves as we go along.” 

Mr. Willard here took up the will and 

233 


A Captain of Industry 

adjusted his eye-glasses, while Mr. Middleton 
reluctantly reseated himself. 

For some reason Mr. Middleton appeared 
anxious to bring the interview to a close. 
Perhaps his feeling of anger and resentment 
toward his son, which had little of malevolence 
or vindictiveness in it, was suffering some 
abatement under this slow and methodical 
process of putting the evidence of it in black 
and white. For anger and resentment seek 
an explosive utterance, not a slow and method- 
ical one. Perhaps, too, he was becoming 
more conscious of the seriousness of the 
thing he was doing and less confident of his 
justification in doing it. 

At all events he hurried Mr. Willard as 
much as he could, which was very little, 
indeed, for Mr. Willard was not in the habit 
of hurrying or turning out any hasty piece 
of legal work. 

In due time, however, the old will had 
been gone over, and Mr. Willard had made 
the necessary memoranda for his guidance 
in drawing up the new one. Mr. Middleton 
then hastily left the office. 

The next day, in the afternoon, he called 
again, pursuant to appointment, and found 
the new will duly prepared for his signature. 

234 


His Father’s Will 


He formally executed it in presence of the 
requisite witnesses, who in due form sub- 
scribed their names thereto. 

The will contained the usual revocatory 
clause: “I hereby revoke all former wills and 
codicils by me made.’’ 

The only reference to his son was in the 
following paragraph: 

“I give and bequeath to my son, Philip 
Middleton, the sum of one dollar.” 

And this was how Philip was remembered 
in his father’s will. 


235 


CHAPTER XX 


The Committee of Three 

It will be seen that Mr. Middleton acted 
quite after the approved manner of irate 
fathers. Disinheritance has always been 
deemed the most condign punishment that 
could be meted out to rebellious sons. 

And, where the disposing parent happens 
to be a man of wealth, the punishment would 
seem to be somewhat severe. To put two 
or three hundred thousand dollars into 
one of the scales of fortune’s balance and 
nothing into the other, should certainly make 
that balance drop heavily on the money- 
weighted side. True, it is a debatable ques- 
tion whether one is really benefited by 
coming into possession of money that he has 
not earned. But in a state of society where 
money is the ruling standard, that question 
is destined to remain a purely academic one. 
At all events, satisfactory evidence is wanting 
of any one in these days having renounced 
his patrimony on the ground that it would not 
be good for him to have it. 

236 


The Committee of Three 

In Mr. Middleton’s punitive proceeding, 
however, one essential was lacking. Philip 
knew nothing about it. Mr. Middleton was 
incapable of that calm detachment from 
personal feeling which would have enabled 
him, having set the mills of justice grinding, 
to abide unconcernedly the turning out of 
the grist. He wanted to make Philip smart 
for it, but would have much preferred to have 
the smarting begin at once. To defer it 
until the reading of his will by his executor 
was to postpone a punishment that Mr. 
Middleton felt like imposing immediately, 
and also to deprive himself of that solace 
to his outraged feelings which he would have 
had could he at once have brought home to 
his son the knowledge of what he had done. 

As he could not do this, he did the next 
best — or worst — ^thing. He told his wife about 
it. Her remarkable composure, however, not 
to say complacency, under the intelligence 
almost angered him. 

He did not destroy the old will. 

“It is not necessary to destroj^ it,” Mr. 
Willard had said to him, “as it is annulled 
by the new will, and should you at any time 
want to republish the old one, it will be 
convenient to have it ready to your hand.” 

237 


A Captain of Industry 

Mr. Middleton may have contemplated a 
possible reconciliation with his son, for he 
placed the two wills together in a drawer of 
the secretary in his study, a small room 
opening on his sleeping-room. 

This room was not simply a “study’’ by 
courtesy, for Mr. Middleton did occasionally 
do some studying there. Not, perhaps, after 
the manner of those addicted to the studious 
habit; but still in a way to make an appre- 
ciable draft upon the gray matter of his brain. 
If he did not bury himself in any deep cal- 
culation of eclipses or kindred scientific 
problems, he did, at times, apply himself 
assiduously to the equally absorbing and, 
to many, fully as diflacult problem, how to 
make one dollar produce two. And those 
who have bent their mental energies upon 
this engrossing problem will vouch for the 
mental wear and tear of it, and, when a 
happy solution has crowned their efforts, for 
as fine a thrill as he experiences who has 
succeeded in solving any of the abstruse 
problems of the schools. 

But Mr. Middleton was destined soon to 
be busy with the reverse problem, how to 
keep two dollars from becoming one. Trouble 
was brewing at the mills. It soon became 

238 


The Committee of Three 

generally known among the workmen that 
Philip’s mediation had been unsuccessful, 
and the adjourned meeting of the union, 
which was to have received and acted upon 
his report, was a stormy one. 

Philip’s letter was read to the union; and 
if a doubt lurked in the minds of any of the 
workmen as to his good-will toward them, 
it must have been dispelled by the contents 
of this letter. Loud cheering ensued upon 
the reading of it, and all who spoke gave 
Philip the most unstinted praise for his 
fidelity to the union and his consideration for 
the welfare of the men, as evidenced by his 
generous gift. Even Aaron Gilks, who was 
so continually condemning things that he 
had almost forgotten how to praise anything 
or anybody, now found a fitting word or two 
in commendation of Philip’s conduct. 

But in the proportion that Philip was 
praised the company was blamed, and the 
demand for an immediate strike became 
general. 

John Waters, however, upon whom Philip’s 
mantle seemed to have fallen, made an 
earnest plea against hasty action, and besought 
the members of the union that as they honored 
Philip and were grateful for what he had 

^39 


A Captain of Industry 

done for them, they should show their respect 
and gratitude by giving heed to his counsel. 
As he had counselled patience and modera- 
tion, could they do less than to defer to his 
wishes by exercising those virtues ? 

Waters had acquired a commanding in- 
fluence in the union, having become the 
leader of the conservative Right in its meet- 
ings, as Aaron Gilks was of the radical Left. 

His suggestion now that a committee of 
three be appointed to confer with the com- 
pany and seek an adjustment of differences, 
was adopted; but the temper of the union 
was seen in that Aaron Gilks was made 
chairman of this committee. Waters and the 
business agent, Isaac H. Battles, were made 
the other members of the committee. 

This committee was directed to confer 
with the company at once and to report to 
the union on the next night; and it was voted 
that nightly meetings of the union should 
be held until some final action in the matter 
was taken. 

The next morning the committee called 
upon Mr. Middleton. 

“ The company has no treaty to make 
with the union, whatever,” he said, when 
they made known the object of their visit. 

240 


The Committee of Three 

“ Whatever negotiations we enter into will 
be with the men direct. If any of them have 
any grievances let them come and present 
them themselves.” 

“They all have one grievance just now,” 
said Gilks, “and you know very well what 
that is, Mr. Middleton.” 

“ Oh, I have no doubt the men were unwill- 
ing enough to have their wages reduced,” 
said Mr. Middleton; “but I don’t know that 
they would rather stop work than submit to 
the new scale. And if they do take that 
position the union and its firebrand agitators 
are responsible for it.” 

“ When you speak of agitators, Mr. Middle- 
ton,” said Gilks with a leer, “ I don’t suppose 
you have reference to your own son.” 

Mr. Middleton changed color. 

“I have no apologies to make for my son’s 
conduct,” he said with some heat, “and the 
penalty for it will fall on him in due season, 
and make him rue the day that he went into 
the mill.” 

“We are making very poor headway,” 
thought Waters. 

“Mr. Middleton,” he said in a conciliatory 
tone, “in every dispute there’s usually some 
right on both sides, and I think the men will 

Ul 


A Captain of Industry 

stand for some cut in their wages if the 
company meets them half way and shows 
that it wants to be fair with them. Now 
can’t we have this thing arbitrated ? Let the 
company choose one man, the union another, 
and these two a third, and let them go into 
the thing and make a report on what they 
consider a fair and just scale of wages under 
the circumstances. The men, I think, would 
be willing to submit the case to men selected 
in this way, and abide by their decision.” 

“There is nothing to arbitrate,” said Mr. 
Middleton coldly. “Where an employer 
offers a certain price for certain work, the man 
to whom the offer is made is not obliged to do 
the work for the offered pay unless he so 
chooses. It isn’t a question for arbitration at 
all, and the employer is under no legal or 
moral obligation to arbitrate it.” 

“That’s true, maybe,” returned Waters. 
“The employer may be under no obligation 
to arbitrate the matter, but isn’t he under a 
moral obligation to offer and pay to the work- 
men what the work is justly worth ?” 

“He is under no sort of obligation to pay 
any more than he chooses to pay,” said Mr. 
Middleton shortly. “ The matter rests en- 
tirely with him.” 


242 


The Committee of Three 

Then turning upon Waters somewhat 
sharply he said: 

“It seems to me, Waters, that you are the 
last man that should come to the company 
with complaints. You’ve had things pretty 
easy for over two years, and the company 
hasn’t interfered. You ought to be supporting 
the company now instead of opposing it.” 

“It isn’t for myself that I’m here, Mr. 
Middleton,” said Waters, “but for the men 
and the union. I want to see this wages 
question settled without having any trouble 
over it. I’m trying to act just as I think 
your son would act if he was here. And 
don’t think, Mr. Middleton,” he went on 
with feeling, “that I’m not thankful for 
what I’ve had at the hands of one that’s been 
close to the company. I don’t ever expect 
to be able to pay that debt, sir; but there 
isn’t a night of my life that I don’t pray God 
to bless your son and keep him, wherever he 
may be!” 

The tears stood in Waters’s eyes, and the 
last words were in a voice that trembled 
almost to breaking. 

Mr. Middleton flushed slightly, took up 
some papers from his desk and made a 
pretence of examining them. 

243 


A Captain of Industry 

Had Waters come as a committee of one 
from the union he might have been able to 
embrace the present auspicious moment to 
some advantage. But there were Gilks and 
Battles. The latter, who up to this time 
had said little, fearing now, perhaps, lest 
his importance as a member of the committee 
should be overlooked, here blurted out: 

“You’ll have to make some sort of terms 
with us, Mr. Middleton, or there’ll be a 
strike, sure’s you live, and that’ll mean a 
shut-down of the mills.” 

Mr. Middleton’s face hardened. 

“A strike, possibly — but why a shut-down, 
Mr. Battles?’^ 

“Why.^” said Battles with a short, vapid 
laugh. “ Well, you don’t suppose — ^you don’t 
think you could run the mills with a lot of 
imported ‘scabs,’ do you?” 

Mr. Middleton saw the veiled threat. There 
was an angry gleam in his eye and his face 
set to a cold, hard and determined expression. 

“We propose to run the mills — strike or 
no strike,” he said, doubling his fist upon his 
desk, “ and if any of you fellows try to 
stop us by interfering with the men who 
want to work, it’ll be the worse for you, 
that’s all.” 


244 


The Committee of Three 

Waters raised his hand deprecatingly. 

“The union won’t stand tor any violence, 
Mr. Middleton — not if I can help it,” he said, 
eyeing Battles askance; “but wouldn’t it be 
better for the company to keep the old men 
at a little higher wages than to put in a lot of 
new men at less pay?” 

“ Oh, I guess all the old men are not going 
to leave us,” said Mr. Middleton. , “There’ll 
be enough of them stay to take care of the new 
men that we may need.” 

“Oh, if you’re lookin’ for traitors, Mr. 
Middleton,” interjected Gilks, “you may find 
a few if you make the price right.” 

“We sha’n’t have to look for — traitors, as 
you call them. There’ll be plenty of the 
men that’ll feel that they owe a higher duty 
to their families than they do to the union. 

“You don’t think, then,” returned Gilks 
sarcastically, “that the men are doing their 
duty to their families when they protest and 
stand out against a reduction of wages which 
takes from their families the necessities and 
comforts to which they are rightly entitled?” 

“ I won’t argue this matter with you,” 
said Mr. Middleton testily. “Let me repeat 
what I said to you at first. The company 
has no treaty or terms of any kind to make 
245 


A Captain of Industry 

with the union. This is final. Gentlemen, 
I wish you good morning.’’ 

Mr. Middleton here arose and waved them 
significantly to the door. 

“You wish us to report to the union, then, 
that you will not recognize it at all?” said 
Gilks as he rose to go. 

“Report what you like,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton carelessly. “ That is the position, however, 
that the company takes in the matter.” 

“Well, if you hear something drop,” said 
Battles as he followed Gilks to the door, 
“you can’t say we didn’t warn you in time.” 

Mr. Middleton’s lip curled contemptuously, 
but he deigned no reply. 

His eye, however, fell not unkindly upon 
Waters, who was the last to leave the room. 

Then an idea seemed to occur to him. 
Going to the door he called Waters back. 

“You needn’t wait,” he said to Gilks and 
Battles. “ I want to see Waters about another 
matter.” 

Waters re-entered the room and Mr. Middle- 
ton closed the door. 

As Gilks and Battles passed out of the 
office building, the latter looked up at the 
former curiously. 

“What’s up now, I wonder? What do 
246 


The Committee of Three 


you suppose he wants to talk to Waters 
about?” 

“I dunno,” said Gilks, “unless he thinks 
he can work him easier than he can us. 
Waters is altogether too easy. He began to 
talk of arbitration right away. When you 
do that you show the other fellow that you 
hold a weak hand.” 

“Yes,” assented Battles, “he made a break 
there; and he seemed to be awfully afraid, 
too, that we might handle those ‘scabs’ 
rather roughly if there was a strike and they 
tried to run the mills with ’em.” 

“ The union may not stand fc 



said Gilks with significant 


the men won’t consider those ^scabs’ their 
friends, I can tell you.” 

“No, they won’t be likely to invite them 
to dinner,” said Battles, with his vapid, 
staccato cackle. 

“That they won’t,” said Gilks, smiling 
grimly. 

“Well,” said Battles as they were about 
to separate, “ we’ll see to-night if Mr. Middle- 
ton has used any soft soap on Waters.” 

“Yes, we’ll see,” returned Gilks, with a 
threatening nod of the head. “Shouldn’t 
wonder much, though, if he did. That’s 


247 


A Captain of Industry 

what’s generally used to soften water, you 
know”; and Gilks grinned. 

“That’s so,” said Battles, cackling his 
appreciation of the word-play as he walked 
away. 

The “soft soap” that Mr. Middleton ap- 
plied, and how far it went with Waters, 
will appear in the next chapter. 


248 


CHAPTER XXI 


Which Concerns Itself Wholly with 

THE Matter of “Soap,” and Shows 
WHY Mr. Middleton must have 
Lost Faith in the Efficacy 
OF THAT Exceedingly 
Useful Article 

Motioning Waters to a seat, Mr. Middleton 
sat down at his desk. He disguised a few 
moments’ meditation by an apparent perusal 
of some papers. Then turning around slowly 
and facing Waters, he said: 

“Waters, you don’t appear to be quite so 
much of a hothead as some of your friends 
in the union are, and this makes it easier to 
talk to you.” 

As if to corroborate this statement by ease 
of attitude, Mr. Middleton crossed his legs, 
shoved his hands into his pockets and gave 
his chair a tilt backwards. 

“Now, Waters,” he continued, assuming 
a friendly tone, “ the union is no place for a 
man like you. It only places you at a dis- 
advantage, for it holds you back, where, if 

249 


A Captain of Industry 


you were not tied to it, your qualifications 
would serve to put you forward. Take my 
advice — get out of it. It will be greatly to 
your interest to do so.” 

“How to my interest.?^” asked Waters, 
somewhat mystified. 


“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Middleton; 
and here he leaned forward and assumed a 
confidential tone: 

“ If the union fights us in this present 
matter — and it looks as if it were going to — 
we propose to stand pat and fight it to a 
finish. It’ll mean the end of the union. We 
sha’n’t have any trouble in getting men, for 
the country is full of men looking for work 
just now, and good men, too. We’ll make 
it a condition of their employment that they 
are not to become members of any workers’ 
union, and in this way we’ll put a check 
upon all further unionism in the mills. We’ll 
make it a non-union mill, and keep it so. 

“Now, Waters,” Mr. Middleton continued, 
“if you stay in the ’ ^ ►u will 



have to go down 


But 


here is the proposition I want to make to 
you. You’ve been with us for a long time. 
You understand the mill business thoroughly. 
You’re not, as I said before, a hothead like 


250 


Concerning ''Soap” 


many of the union men; and for these reasons 
we’d like to keep you with us. For obvious 
reasons, too, we should like to have as many 
as possible of the old men remain with us; 
and here. Waters, is where you can be of 
considerable assistance to us. Judging by 
your appointment on this committee from 
the union, I should say that you are a man 
that would have considerable influence with 
the workmen. Now, in case the union orders 
a strike, if you’ll get out of the union and 
get as many of the men as you can to go with 
you, the company will And some responsible 
position for you under the new order of 
things that’ll make it worth your while to 
break with the union and stand by the com- 
pany.” 

A flush of mingled shame and anger came 
into Waters’s honest face. 

“If this is all you wanted to see me about, 
Mr. Middleton,” he said, rising from his 
chair, “I’m sorry you called me back. I’m 
not the man you’re looking for. I came 
here this morning to do what I could for the 
men, and not to feather my own nest at their 
expense. What ’ud they think of me — 
what ’ud you think of me, sir, if, coming 
here to speak for the men, I sold ’em out for 

251 


A Captain of Industry 

the thirty pieces of silver you’re offering me 
for doing it?” 

Mr. Middleton was taken aback. His face 
flushed angrily. 

“I’m not asking you to sell the men out,” 
he said hotly. “What I’m asking you to do 
is for their good as well as for your own. 
Won’t the men be better off to keep at work 
during these dull times than to stay out on 
a strike doing nothing ? And as for yourself, 
you don’t owe anything to the union, and 
you’re not obliged to stay with it if it is against 
your interest to do so.” 

“It might be better for the men to stay 
at work than to go out on a strike just now,^’ 
said Waters. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t 
be. But what you’re asking me to do is to 
help you break up the union; to make it a 
non-union mill. Maybe I don’t owe any- 
thing to the union, but I do owe something 
to the men. We owe it to each other to 
stand together; and we can’t do that better 
than through the union. There may be, as 
you say, a few hotheads in the union that 
maybe don’t do us much good sometimes, 
but that’s no reason why the sober men 
should leave it — it’s a stronger reason why 
they should stay in it.” 

252 


Concerning Soap** 


“ And let the hotheads drag them down 
with themselves and the union,” said Mr. 
Middleton sarcastically. 

“To keep ’em from doing it, if possible,” 
said ^^^aters 

“Well,” said Mr. Middleton abruptly, “if 
there’s a strike, the union will have to go, 
that’s all; and you’ll go with it. You’ve 
appeared to be a sensible man, and I wanted 
to give you a chance to save yourself. Since 
you don’t appear to be willing to take it, I 
have nothing further to say, except that the 
time may come when you’ll be sorry you 
didn’t do it.” 

“No, I sha’n’t be sorry on that account, 
Mr. Middleton,” said Waters, turning his cap 
nervously in his fingers; “but what I shall 
be sorry for is that I couldn’t do anything to 
patch up this trouble between us. I don’t 
want to see any fight over it, for I know a 
fight will be a bad thing for the men. And 
it’ll be a bad thing for the company, too. 
It isn’t for me, maybe, to advise you, Mr. 
Middleton, but it seems to me you’d serve 
your own interests better by settling this 
trouble with the men than by fighting it out 
with them.” 

“I think we’ve discussed that matter suf- 
253 


A Captain of Industry 

ficiently already,” said Mr. Middleton coldly, 
“and I don’t care to discuss it any further. 
If you have any advice to offer go and give 
it to the men — the company doesn’t need it.” 

“Well,” said Waters as he turned to the 
door, “I’m not saying the men don’t need 
some advice, but from the looks of things a 
little wouldn’t hurt the company, either.” 

“Fool!” muttered Mr. Middleton when 
Waters had gone. “He doesn’t know which 
side his bread is buttered on, that’s evident 
— ^throwing up a good thing because he 
thinks he’s got to stand by the union. Huh! 
Most of ’em would knife him quick enough 
if they could make anything by it; and there 
wouldn’t be any high talk about selling out 
or taking thirty pieces of silver, either. Huh ! ” 
And Mr. Middleton’s lip curled contemptu- 
ously. 

Many among the well-to-do, priding them- 
selves upon a social status largely fixed by 
artificial standards, are much given to arroga- 
ting virtues superior to those of the poorer 
classes, and who think as Mr. Middleton 
thought, that the lower down you go in the 
social scale the easier it is to buy men — 
and. Heaven help us! women, too — and the 
cheaper they will sell themselves. And it is 

254 


Concerning '' Soap’^ 


a matter for surprise to these people when 
they find that in simple lives many of the 
simple virtues have an exceedingly sturdy 
growth. A kind fate which denies to the 
lowly so many of the refinements of life will 
often recompense this denial by a gift of 
character and soul, making them not unlike 
many a flower, which, though rooted in the 
meanest soil, blossoms in beauty and throws 
out upon the air a sweet and grateful fragrance. 


255 


CHAPTER XXII 


The Formal Notice 

Aaron Gilks, as chairman of the conference 
committee, made his report to the union that 
night, advising the members of the complete 
failure of the conference and of the hopeless- 
ness of accomplishing anything with the 
company in the way of a settlement of differ- 
ences. He followed his report with a motion 
for an immediate declaration of a strike by 
the union. 

This motion was promptly seconded, and 
the question, to strike or not to strike, was 
now squarely before the union. 

Upon this question Waters was one of the 
first to speak, as he was anxious to forestall 
any hasty action, and to secure a full and 
careful deliberation on the part of the union 
before it should make a final and irrevocable 
decision. 

A great responsibility now rested upon the 
union, he said. Upon its decision this night 
hung the welfare of the men for months, 
perhaps for years to come. They should not 

256 


The Formal Notice 


blind themselves to the plain facts of the case, 
but should look them squarely in the face. 
A strike was a serious thing. If a strike 
should be declared the company would make 
a determined fight. It would mean a long 
season of idleness and consequent privation 
for themselves and their families; and should 
the strike fail in the end, it would mean for 
many of them permanent loss of employment 
in the mills. 

The very life of the union, too, was at 
stake. If there was a strike, and the company 
succeeded in breaking it, its purpose was to 
break the union also, and to make and keep 
the mill a non-union mill. 

In face of such possible consequences a 
strike should not be declared unless they 
had the strongest assurances of success. 

Had they any such assurance ? Were not 
the chances of success against them at the 
present time ? 

He called attention to the general business 
depression throughout the country. To the 
many mills and factories that had been com- 
pelled to close. To the multitude of men out 
of employment ready and eager to step into 
their places if thev should walk out. 

He had no apologies to make for the com- 

257 


A Captain of Industry 

pany, and would yield to no one in condemn- 
ing the course it was pursuing toward the 
men. If he thought a strike would avail 
to bring it to fair terms he would be the first 
to vote for it. But under present conditions 
a strike could not succeed; it would be fore- 
doomed to failure. With so many men 
coming to the mills every day looking for 
work, this was no time to try to enforce 
their claims, however just. An attempt to 
do so could only end in disaster. 

What, then, did he counsel To wait; 
to be patient; to take the half loaf until such 
time as they could demand the whole loaf 
with some assurance of getting it. The present 
business depression could not last forever. 
Brighter days would come, and perhaps right 
soon. Then they could demand and, if need 
be, fight for their rights with some likelihood 
of their getting them. 

Waters’s speech might have been more 
effective had not Aaron Gilks risen to 
reply to it. The latter had made special 
preparation for this meeting, for he knew it 
would be the crucial one upon the matter 
in hand; and he now opened to the full all 
his vials of wrath and denunciation. 

He denounced the policy of delay which 
258 


The Formal Notice 


was frittering away time that was precious. 
A strike should have been declared imme- 
diately upon the cutting of the scale by the 
company. What had been accomplished by 
waiting upon young Middleton’s mediation.? 
Nothing! What through the appointment 
and efforts of the conference committee ? 
Nothing! And what would be accomplished 
by waiting for a more convenient season.? 
Nothing, except to let the iron cool that was 
now at white heat for the hammer! 

Such dilly-dallying and delay only weakened 
the union and fortified the company in its 
arrogant position. Could the union appear 
formidable to the company when they nes- 
itated in defiantly demanding their rights, and 
came to it with soft words and conciliatory 
overtures of compromise and settlement ? 
Every day’s delay was costly to the union and 
helpful to the company. It was true, as 
Waters had said: men were besieging the 
company for work every day. Was not the 
town filling up with men brought in on every 
train who either heard of a contemplated 
strike or were solicited to come by emissaries 
of the company so that it might be prepared 
to man the mills in case there should be a 
walk-out by the present force .? Had a strike 

259 


A Captain of Industry 

been at once declared it would not have been 
possible for the company to do this, and it 
would have been compelled to concede their 
demands in a very short time. 

But let the outside men come. Let this 
not deter them from striking. Let the union 
show its strength by declaring a strike in face 
of it. Let the foreign “scabs” come if they 
chose, but let them try to fill the places of 
union men at their peril! Mr. Waters had 
seen fit to assure Mr. Middleton in the con- 
ference that there would be no violence if 
there was a strike and the company attempted 
to install new men. Let Waters speak for 
himself, and not for those who had not such 
good reason to favor the company as he had. 
Prom Mr. Waters’s present course he thought 
he was justified in asking him if there was 
not some connection between his present 
aversion to a strike and the private conference 
that he had had with Mr. Middleton after 
the committee’s conference with Mr. Middle- 
ton was ended. (This statement created a 
sensation, and many eyes in the hall were 
turned toward Waters into whose face there 
came an angry flush.) 

No violence! Should they, then, stand and 
deliver when a highwayman accosted them if 

260 


The Formal Notice 


they could protect themselves ? The company 
was robbing them! Should they tamely sub- 
mit? The men who took their places in the 
mills would be robbing them! Should they 
allow it? They would be wise enough to 
commit no overt acts, but would find means 
of persuasion that would be effectual with 
the base hirelings of the company who sought 
to feed upon the misfortunes of honest men. 
To whom, pray, did the mills belong? Did 
not the men who for years had manned 
them and brought them to their present high 
state of efficiency have some vested right in 
them as well as the company, a right that 
should be respected as well as that of a share- 
holder who drew his dividends on the stock 
that the workmen had made valuable ? 

And now they were asked to wait content 
with a half loaf until they could safely demand 
the whole. Yes, wait and see the company, 
grown more greedy and insolent in its fancied 
security, instead of restoring the whole loaf, 
reducing the half to a quarter! 

Out upon such a policy! There should 
be no further paltering or delay; no further 
waiting for justice that would never come 
by waiting nor by humble and submissive 
appeal. Forbearance had ceased to be a 

261 


A Captain of Industry 

virtue. Were they, forsooth, smitten upon 
one cheek, to turn abjectly and receive a still 
harder blow upon the other? (Gilks here 
laughed sardonically.) The masters of money 
had wrested to their own baleful uses the 
beneficent teachings of the New Testament, 
and while with iron heel they were pressing 
down upon the necks of their prostrate 
weaker brothers, they were commending to 
them the Christian graces of humility, sub- 
mission and of non-resistance! Not to such 
lengths or ends, certainly, did the great 
Teacher of men direct His precepts; but were 
He here to-day He would scourge from the 
marts of trade and industry the heartless, 
grasping, soulless buccaneers as He had 
scourged the greedy money-changers from 
the Temple! 

Haranguing the union in this strain for a 
half-hour or longer, Gilks succeeded in work- 
ing the members of the union as well as 
himself up to a high pitch of excitement. 
The effect of his philippic was evidenced by 
the loud and prolonged applause which greeted 
its conclusion and by the cries of “strike!” 
“strike!” and “question!” “question!” that 
came up from all parts of the hall. 

The president rose and rapped sharply 

262 


The Formal Notice 


upon the table with his gavel. 

“Does any other member wish to speak 
on the question,” he said. “If not, the chair 
will put the question.” 

Again came the cry of “question!” “ques- 
tion!” from a hundred throats. 

Amid intense excitement the question, 
“Shall a strike be declared,” was put. 

A thunderous “aye” came up, that made 
the call of the negative a mere formality. 

“The ayes appear to have it,” said the 
president; and then added: “The ayes have 

Cheer after cheer went up to attest the 
satisfaction with which the vote was received. 

Waters now rose; but amid the din and 
confusion it was with difficulty that he could 
make himself heard to get the recognition 
of the chair. When quiet was restoied by 
repeated raps of the president’s gavel. Waters 
was given the floor. 

He arose, he said, simply to say a few words 
on a question of privilege. Mr. Gilks had 
made an insinuation reflecting upon himself 
that he could not overlook, and that the 
members of the union could hardly expect 
him to overlook. Mr. Gilks had spoken of a 
private conference that he (Waters) had had 

^63 


A Captain of Industry 

with Mr. Middleton. He admitted that he 
did have such a conference. It was not, 
however, of his own seeking, and what had 
been said at this conference was of such a 
nature — almost wholly personal to himself — 
that he had not intended to say anything 
about it to the union or to any one. But 
what had been hinted by Mr. Gilks now 
compelled him to take the union into his 
confidence touching what had passed between 
himself and Mr. Middleton at this conference. 

Waters then gave a brief account of what 
had taken place. 

What he had said to Mr. Middleton he was 
ready to say and would now say to the mem- 
bers of the union: that he was a union man 
and would stand by the union, strike or no 
strike. His place was with the union, and he 
would stand or fall with it. If he had opposed 
a strike it was because he believed a strike 
at the present time would work disaster to 
the men and to the union. But he was ready 
to submit to the will of the union, and as it 
had now decided upon a strike he would do 
all in his power to make that strike a success. 
Let them judge of his fealty to the union by 
his acts, and not otherwise. Let them test 
it by looking to see whether, in case of a strike, 

^64 


The Formal Notice 


he lifted a tong or put a bar to the rolls until 
he had the sanction of the union for doing it. 
(Cheers !) 

He had only one last suggestion to make 
now, and that was that a definite time should 
be fixed at which the workmen should be 
called out, and that the company should be 
notified of this, for perhaps at the eleventh 
hour it might concede the union’s demands. 
He thought it advisable that an executive 
committee be given charge of the matter, to 
notify’ the company, to receive any com- 
munications that it had to make, ana at the 
time decided upon to call the strike on behalf 
of the union m case the company had not 
made or was not disposed to make any settle- 
ment at that time. 

Finally, he cautioned and counselled the 
men against any acts of violence after they 
walked out. Such acts could only bring 
against them and against the union the 
weight of that public sentiment to which 
they should look for their strongest support 
in the battle for their just rights. 

There was renewed cheering when Waters 
sat down. 

Gilks at once arose to say that Waters’s 
explanation of his conference with Mr. Mid- 
265 


A Captain of Industry 

dleton was entirely satisfactory, and that if 
he (Gilks) had been led in the heat of debate 
to say anything reflecting upon Mr. Waters’s 
honor as a member of the union he was 
ready to retract it. 

At this amende honorable there was more 
cheering. 

Gilks expressed himself as favorable to 
Waters’s suggestion of an executive com- 
mittee, but that if any notice was to be sent 
to the company it should be a very short one. 
So far as he was concerned he would like 
to see the notice to the men posted the next 
morning. Delays were now dangerous, for 
while they were delaying the company was 
fortifying itself for the fight. 

Waters’s suggestion was adopted, and, on 
motion, the conference committee was con- 
tinued to act as the strike executive committee. 

A formal notice was drawn up and signed 
by Gilks, Waters and Battles, as members of 
the executive committee and on behalf of 
the union. 

This gave notice to the company that unless 
settlement or offer of settlement of the wage 
dispute between the union and the company 
was made by the company with the under- 
signed executive committee by twelve o’clock 

^ 266 


The Formal Notice 


noon of the second day following, fires would 
be drawn in the mills and the men would 
walk out. 

This notice Mr. Middleton received the 
next morning. He read it, crammed it intc 
his pocket, hastily left the office and toot 
a car for town to have a conference with Mr. 
Hartland. 


267 


CHAPTER XXIII 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

Mr. Middleton’s interview with Mr. Hart- 
land was short. They both had a much 
longer one with the company’s attorney, Mr. 
Willard, to whose office they made haste to 
repair. 

As a result of this interview there was a 
” ‘ ‘ “ Edavits in Mr. Wil- 



hurried and more 


careful drawing up of a bill in equity for an 
injunction. 

Signatures to the affidavits having been 
obtained in the course of the day, they were 
attached to the bill, and with the bill and 
affidavits Mr. Willard, late in the afternoon, 
appeared before Judge Baldwin of the circuit 
court in his chambers at the court-house. 

The next morning, well before twelve o’clock, 
the time set for the strike, a restraining order 
from the court was duly served upon all the 
officers of the workmen’s union and upon 
Gilks, Battles and Waters, as members of 
the strike committee. 


268 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

This restraining order strictly commanded 
the defendants, until the further order of the 
court, absolutely to desist and refrain from 
in any way or manner ordering, coercing, 
persuading, inducing or otherwise causing, 
directly or indirectly, the employees of the 
Ellerton Iron & Steel Works to strike or 
quit the service of said company. 

“ I guess this blocks us,’’ said Battles, when 
he. Waters and Gilks came together for a 
conference. 

“This is an outrage!” Gilks exclaimed 
angrily. “What right have they to keep us 
at work when we want to quit.? They can’t 
stop us from striking. Let’s pay no atten- 
tion to the order.” 

“I think we’d better go and see Langdon 
before we do anything further in the matter,” 
said Waters. “He can explain this thing to 
us and tell us what we ought to do.” 

“I guess that’s what we’d better do,” 
said Battles. 

Gilks grumblingly assenting, the three 
boarded a car for town, where arriving, they 
wended their way up the east side of the 
court-house square until they came to where 
a gilt-lettered sign hung out from a doorway. 
The sign bore the inscription: 

269 


A Captain of Industry 
Elisha Langdon, 

Attorney and Counsellor at Law. 

Entering the open doorway and ascending 
the stairs to the second-floor landing, they 
turned to the right and walked a few steps 
through the hallway to a door upon which 
was tacked a tin sign, bearing a like inscription 
with the one below. 

Waters knocked at the door. 

A cheery and high-pitched “Come in!” 
came from the room. 

The men entered. Mr. Langdon was alone, 
and was seated, engrossed in a law book, at 
his desk in the further corner of the room, 
near one of the windows which looked out 
upon the street. He was seated, that is, if 
the comfortable and quite lawyer-like posture 
he had assumed could be called being seated. 
His chair was back-tilted and his long legs 
were stretched out and up to find lodgment 
for his feet upon his desk. His feet were 
incased in a pair of low-cut cowhide shoes 
which gave ample display to light-colored 
cotton hose that seemed to lack the restraining 
support of garters. A long black coat, a 
trifle rusty, hung somewhat loosely over his 
lank frame. The coat was unbuttoned, as 
was also the upper part of his waistcoat, 

270 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

revealing a considerable expanse of shirt 
bosom that might hardly have been called 
immaculate. A black string necktie was some- 
what inartistically knotted under a turned- 
point standing collar. 

The unfavorable impression of Mr. Lang- 
don which his apparel might well have cre- 
ated would, however, have been minimized, 
if not entirely removed, by a look into his 
face. It was not a handsome face by aiw 
means, if judged by ordinary standards. It 
was homely to a degree. And yet it was a 
good face to look into. A native honesty 
and sincerity seemed to be stamped upon his 
features, giving him that frank, open coun- 
tenance which invites confidence and inspires 
trust. There was, too, an engaging play of 
humor in the dark eyes that looked out from 
their cavernous depths. 

Without applying to Langdon the hack- 
neyed metaphor of a diamond in the rough, 
he was a man in whom the fundamentals of 
sturdy character had deep and abiding root, 
but who would have profited considerably 
by a course of social grooming. He had, 
indeed, been so absorbed in the great essen- 
tials that he had neglected the fine amenities 
and conventions of social life, the value and 

271 


A Captain of Industry 

importance of which are, perhaps, under- 
estimated because their best exemplars have 
often, unfortunately, so little else to recom- 
mend them. 

If Mr. Langdon thus lacked the fine pro- 

E ortions of a symmetrical personality, it may 
ave been due to the fact that he was a self- 
made man; and self-made men are not always 
well-made men. Born to poverty to begin 
with, he was early thrust into a strenuous 
struggle for existence, and later in life thrust 
himself into a still more strenuous struggle 
for an education. At an age when most 
young men are leaving school he presented 
himself for matriculation at one of those 
starveling seats of learning in the Middle 
West which are dignified by the name of 
college. At that interesting period of his life 
Langdon was blessed with this world’s goods 
to the extent of the suit of clothes on his back, 
and the fifty dollars in his pocket which he 
had carefully saved up for this educational 
venture. He was neither afraid nor ashamed 
of work, however; and having invested in a 
sawbuck, wood-saw and ax he devoted the 
time he could spare from his studies to con- 
serving his modest hoard by wood sawing 
and splitting for the townspeople whom he 

272 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

found in need of such service. With buck, 
saw and ax thrown over his shoulder, he 
would frequently be seen of an afternoon 
making his rounds of the town without an 
objective point, not unlike the itinerant knife 
and scissors-grinder, hopeful of and not 
infrequently successful in finding a job of 
work before nightfall. 

And if one of the facetious students did 
dub him “Old Sawbucks,” — an appellation 
which soon became current — this troubled 
him very little, nor at all lessened his seeming 
ambition to live up to the requirements of 
that homely sobriquet, for no one could have 
excelled him in the expedition with which 
he could reduce a cord of wood to kitchen- 
range pieces. 

The long summer vacations were, however, 
both literally and figuratively, his times of 
harvest. Wheat fields were nodding for the 
reaper and binder, and harvest hands were in 
urgent demand at good wages. Langdon 
threw himself into the harvest fields with the 
same ardor he had applied to his wood sawing. 
He never suffered the reaper to catch him at 
his station with unbound sheaves, and on the 
hottest of the hot days he stuck to his post 
when many older and more seasoned hwd§ 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

had been forced from the field. 

Harvest season over, Langdon usually spent 
what remained of the long vacation in selling 
books by subscription. Most of these books, 
it is needless to say, were of a kind to need 
energetic pushing by agents to bring them 
into anything like general circulation, albeit 
they all had the unqualified indorsement of 
their publishers as books that ought to be 
found in the library of every home. Be this 
last as it may, Langdon was certainly instru- 
mental in placing them in the libraries of 
many homes, much to his own and the pub- 
lishers’ emolument, if not greatly to the 
edification of his subscribers. 

And so with the savings from his summer 
work and the steady, if small, income from 
his wood sawing and other work during the 
school year, and the rigid economy of his 
living — most of the time either boarding 
himself or content with the equally frugal 
fare of students’ boarding clubs — Langdon 
was enabled to finish the college course free 
from debt, and was graduated, not with the 
highest honors to be sure, but with the cred- 
itable “cum laude” which attested his worth- 
iness, and which, judging by the good account 
many have given of themselves who have 

274 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

received that modest encomium upon gradua- 
tion, should by no means be considered a 
mark of mediocrity. 

Continuing to apply himself with per- 
sistence and assiduity to work of one kind 
and another, and practicing the same rigid 
economies, Langdon prosecuted his law studies 
and in due time was admitted to the bar, 
and came to Ellerton to practice his profes- 
sion. For three years now his sign had hung 
out upon the street, making its modest appem 
for clients. This appeal had not yet been 
answered to any very marked extent. A young 
lawyer’s road to a paying clientage is, m the 
absence of influential backing and exceptional 
circumstances, an exceedingly rough and 
thorny one. Many who take it faint and fall 
by the wayside; and many, too, who finally 
reach the hilltops must contemplate manifold 
bruises and lacerations from the perilous 
ascent, the marks of many of which remain 
ineffaceable. 

Langdon’s previous bouts with adverse 
circumstances had, however, inured him to 
the hardships of a legal novitiate, and he 
had plodded on in spite of frequent dis- 
couragements, buoyed up by the occasional 
clearings that appeared in the seemingly 

275 


A Captain of Industry 

impenetrable way. The narrow and tortuous 
path was widening a little for him now. 
During the past year he had prosecuted to 
satisfactory settlement a couple of damage 
suits growing out of personal injuries sus- 
tained by workmen in tne mills; and the skill 
with which he had conducted these suits 
as well as the exceedingly modest honorarium 
he had retained for his services from the sums 
collected — not, as many personal-injury law- 
yers do, deeming such suits primarily for the 
benefit of the lawyer rather than the client 
— ^had spread his repute among the workmen, 
and later led to his selection as counsel for 
the union. 

And so our committee of three came to 
Mr. Langdon with Judge Baldwin’s order. 

“H’ml Put a spoke in your wheel, haven’t 
they ?” he said when he had read the order. 

“ Do we have to pay any attention to that 
said Gilks. “Can’t we go ahead anyway.^ 
We were going to call the men out at noon 
to-day.” 

“Yes — ^you can go ahead,” said Mr. Lang- 
don slowly, and with a meaning look, “but I 
reckon you’d better not, unless you want 
to take a vacation and spend it as a guest 
of the sheriff in the county jail,” 

m 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

“So we can’t strike, eh? We’ve got to go 
on working for whatever the company sees fit 
to pay us ? What are things coming to when 
the law takes the side of the rich against the 
poor in this way?” 

“I don’t think you’ve stated the case quite 
correctly, Mr. Gilks,” said Mr. Langdon 
with a good-humored smile. “ The law 
doesn’t take sides; and if it has seemed to 
favor the rich, it is because they have made 
more frequent appeals to it. The courts 
stand equally ready to protect the rights of 
the poor whenever their attention is called 
to the invasion of such rights. 

“All there is to this case is just this,” 
Langdon went on, crossing his legs and 
clapping his hands behind his head : “ Willard 
& Flitwood, as attorneys of the companv, 
have filed a bill in which they have likely 
set up all sorts of things that they can’t prove, 
but which with the aflBdavits they’ve probably 
secured and attached to the bill, made out 
a prima-facie case for the issuance of this 
restraining order. The time was too short 
to give you people notice of it, and if Judge 
Baldwin hadn’t issued the order the damage 
which the bill seeks to prevent would have 
been done before a hearing could have been 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

had. But I don’t believe he’ll hold it over 
you after our answer is in and we’ve been 
neard in the matter. 

“Now, I’ll go over to the clerk’s office,” 
he continued, “and look over the bill and 
draw up an answer, get some affidavits to meet 
those attached to the bill, and get this thing 
to a hearing as soon as possible. Judge 
Baldwin will, I have no doubt, give us an 
early hearing.” 

“And we’ve got to wait for this, have we 
said Gilks petulantly. 

“Yes, you’ve got to wait,” returned Langdon 
decidedly — “that is if you have any fear of 
the consequences that I suggested a moment 
ago. But it won’t be long; and in the mean- 
time you may be able to fix things up with 
the company, so that a strike will not be 
necessary. It would certainly be much better 
if you could do that.” 

“We can fix nothing,” snapped Gilks; 
“ the company won’t even recognize the 
union.” 

“ Well, whatever you do, don’t call a strike 
until we get this restraining order set aside.” 

“No, we’ll obey the law,” said Waters, 
“if it’s the law that we should obey this 
order, Mr. Langdon.” 


278 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

“ It certainly is the law. I can tell you that 
positively, without looking in my books for it.” 

“And you think the judge would ‘jug’ 
us, do you, if we called a strike in spite of 
the order?'' asked Battles. 

“It would be a flagrant contempt of the 
court’s order, and courts are not usually very 
lenient in such cases. 

“But aside from any personal considera- 
tions,” Langdon continued in a more serious 
tone, “you should respect the law. The 
union can’t afford to put itself outside the 
pale of the law by disregarding its mandates 
and encouraging lawlessness. No substantial 
advantage can be gained by any such course. 
Take my advice, gentlemen: obey the law, 
and submit your rights to the determination 
of the court. You can’t imperil them by so 
doing, and you may seriously imperil them 
by doing otherwise.” 

“But we’re losing valuable time through 
this thing,” said Gilks irritably, “and the 
company is gaining time. I guess that’s 
what they did it for.” 

“You may appear to be losing time now,” 
said Mr. Langdon, “but maybe it won’t be 
time lost in the long run. Anyway, I’ll see 
that we lose as little time as possible in getting 

279 


A Captain of Industry 

this thing to a hearing. I’ll go right over 
to the clerk’s oflfice now and take a look at 
their bill. And say — all of you come back 
to my office this afternoon. I shall need your 
help in getting up some affidavits.” 

The strike was not called that day. The 
workmen expecting to find the strike-call 
on the union bulletin board at noon, read 
there, instead, the restraining order of the 
court, and the call for a meeting of the union 
that night. 

This meeting was largely in the nature of 
an indignation meeting, at which there were 
general and severe strictures upon the com- 
pany, the law and the courts for what was 
characterized as a high-handed and out- 
rageous proceeding. A few of the radical 
members even advocated that the union should 
pay no attention to the order whatever; but 
while such speakers were loudly applauded, 
the soberer majority voted to abide the 
determination of the matter by the court, 
as Mr. Langdon had advised. 

Langdon lost no time in preparing the 
defendants’ answer to the complainant’s bill, 
and also a number of counter- affidavits. 
Filing the answer and affidavits, and likewise 
a motion to set aside the restraining order, 

280 


The Strong Arm of the Law 

he made application to Judge Baldwin for 
an early hearing. This last was granted, 
and Wednesday of the following week, at 
ten o’clock a.m., was the time set for the 
hearing. 


281 


CHAPTER XXIV 


The Hearing of the Case 

The news of the issuance of the court 
order restraining the mill workers from strik- 
ing, and that the right of the company to 
an injunction was to be fought out in court, 
spread rapidly and soon became the absorbing 
topic of town talk. On Wednesday morning, 
and well before ten o’clock, the hour set for 
the hearing, the large room in the court-house 
was crowded to the doors. 

It is not often that large audiences are 
drawn to hearings in chancery. True, court 

K roceedings have always been of more or 
;ss interest to the general public; but this 
interest has usually been of a character not 
at all flattering to the popular intelligence 
and taste. The largest crowds have always 
thronged our court rooms to see hapless 
homicides make their legal race with death, 
or where cases gave promise of sensational 
and salacious incidents for a morbid and 
prurient curiosity to feed upon. Whether a 
sensational press has aroused and stimulated 

282 


The Hearing of the Case 

this curiosity, or simply pandered to it, is 
hard to say. Probably it has done both. 
Certainly the daily newspaper has not been 
chary of space in giving publicity — ad nauseam 
— ^to cases which in the interest of public 
morality ought to have been tried behind 
closed doors. 

And yet, there is much that goes on in 
courts of law that is of real educative value; 
much that should engage and would well 
reward the interest of the layman. That 
great legal luminary, Mr. Blackstone, lament- 
ing the neglect of the study of the law, thought 
a competent knowledge of this science to 
be the proper accomplishment of every gentle- 
man and scholar; a highly useful, indeed, 
essential, part of liberal and polite education. 

A fine old gentleman Mr. Blackstone was 
himself; almost too fine he might nowadays 
be thought to have been, for he used a large 
measure for the well-born and a small one 
for the baser born. In these very democratic 
days when all men are (in theory at least) 
eq^ual before the law, an equal obligation 
might be said to rest upon all to know the law. 

In our country, however, the cause for 
lament is not so much, perhaps, that so few 
have made a study of the law, as that so many 

283 


A Captain of Industry 

who have studied it should have felt con- 
strained to seek a living by the practice of 
it. For this has overcrowded, and to a great 
extent commercialized, an honorable profes- 
sion, and encumbered the dockets of our courts 
with a great deal of unnecessary and un- 
meritorious litigation. 

But let us return to our mutton. 

As has been said, the court room was 
crowded. From the number of Ellerton’s 
“best” people who were present, the occasion 
took on somewhat the aspect of a society 
affair, and Mr. Munson of the Argus, who 
was there, in his report of the proceedings 
for his paper, might have prefaced his notice 
of the attendance by the formulated society 
reporter’s phrase, “Among those present were, 
Mr. and Mrs. ” etc. 

But Mr. Munson was not in court simply, 
or even principally, for the purpose of getting 
material for a column or two in the Argus. 
Bless you, no! Please remember that Mr. 
Munson was a stockholder in the Ellerton 
Iron & Steel Works. He still held those 
two shares of stock, and was, therefore, a 
“party in interest” in the pending cause. 
This fact he sought to impress upon the 
people in the court room by certain remarks 

^84 


The Hearing of the Case 

he let fall in talks with several present when 
he came in; remarks which were made in 
a tone loud enough to be heard by others 
than those immediately addressed and there- 
fore plainly rebutting any inference that they 
were intended as confidential. 

“The present business depression com- 
pelled us to reduce wages,” he said; “and 
the men are making a great mistake in giving 
us any trouble about it. We could get along 
all right with most of the men by themselves, 
but the union is stirring up a fuss, and our 
attorneys are going to test its right to step 
in between us and the men and dictate to us 
what wages we shall pay.” 

To these and other like remarks Mr. 
Munson sought to give point and emphasis 
by going inside the bar and seating himself 
next to Mr. Hartland, and drawing that 
worthy citizen and heavy mill stockholder into 
conversation, every now and then looking 
up and over the court room with a pompous 
and consequential air. 

Indeed, a stranger in the court room 
would have been much more likely to pick 
Mr. Munson rather than Mr. Middleton 
as the man chiefly interested in the case. 
Mr. Middleton had had a conference with 

285 


A Captain of Industry 

Mr. Willard the day before in regard to the 
case, and had now nothing more to say to him 
about it or, seemingly, any very great interest 
in it. For with a nod to Mr. Willard and 
to Mr. Flitwood, who sat behind Mr. Willard 
at the attorneys’ table, and with a like formal 
greeting to a number of others in the court 
room he took a seat on one of the rear benches 
outside the bar. 

A close observer might have seen a line 
or two in Mr. Middleton’s face that had but 
lately made their appearance there. 

Edith Middleton came with her father. 
It was no idle curiosity that had prompted 
her to ask her father to take her with him. 
Knowing that the present difference between 
the workmen and the company was the cause 
of the quarrel between her brother and father, 
she had a vague hope that in the pending 
court proceedings the wage dispute would in 
some way be adjusted, and that such adjust- 
ment would be followed by a reconciliation 
between Philip and his father. She was, 
therefore, quite naturally, interested in the 
hearing and its outcome. 

George Hartland, who was in the court 
room, came and sat down beside Edith, and 
sought to relieve the tedium of the wait for 

286 


The Hearing of the Case 

the opening of court by his habitual running 
fire of small talk. 

Nearly all the attorneys in Ellerton were 
gathered inside the bar, drawn to the court 
room by the unusual character and importance 
of the proceedings; and they were interestedly 
discussing the merits of the case among 
themselves and speculating as to its probable 
outcome. Besides the common interest in 
the fortunes of Ellerton’s greatest industry 
they had a professional one in the unusually 
novel legal proposition involved in the con- 
troversy. An injunction to stop a labor 
strike was, in the opinion of most of the 
attorneys, stretching the law to rather strange 
uses, and they were more than curious to hear 
by what arguments and authorities Willard 
& Flitwood were going to seek to establish 
a precedent so unique in its character and so 
far-reaching in its consequences. They were 
all quite ready to admit, however, that if it 
could be done Willard & Flitwood were the 
men to do it. 

They were doubtless of one mind, too, 
that the attorneys for the mill company 
would find their greatest obstacle in the 
inherent difficulty of their side of the case 
rather than in the strength of the opposing 

287 


A Captain of Industry 

counsel. Not a few were the looks of com- 
miseration that were turned upon Langdon 
who, without associate counsel, sat alone on 
his side of the attorneys’ table, examining 
and arranging upon the table the few authori- 
ties he had brought with him, which made 
but a poor showing against the formidable 
pile of slip-marked law books heaped up 
upon the other side of the table. It was the 
general expectation that he would make 
just as poor a showing against the leaders 
of the Ellerton bar when it came to the 

most of 
ig Hart- 

land to Edith facetiously; “he has very little 
of it on the table.” 

“Mr. Langdon 

“Yes — the attorney for the workmen’s union 
— ^the man sitting alone there opposite Mr. 
Willard at the table.” 

Edith looked over at Mr. Langdon care- 
lessly. 

“His head certainly looks big enough to 
carry it.” 

“Quite,” assented Hartland with a laugh. 

^ Just then Langdon turned his head to one 
side so that Edith obtained a good look at 

288 


argument of the case. 

“Mr. Langdon must be carrying 
his law in his head,” remarked you 


The Hearing of the Case 


his face. What a homely face! was her 
first thought. Her second thought was that 
it was a strong face, a masterful one — ^yes, 
a strangely attractive one in its rugged 
masculinity. 

“Has he been in Ellerton long?” she 
asked somewhat absently. “I don’t remem- 
ber to have seen him before.” 

“Who? Langdon? Oh, not very long,” 
replied Hartland. “He’s a comparative new- 
comer at the bar. Hasn’t much business, I 
guess. Doesn’t look as if he had. He cer- 
tainly doesn’t spend much money on his 
clothes. Just look at those ‘hand-me-downs’ 
he’s got on. He must have got a discount 
somewhere because they couldn’t fit him.” 

“ He isn’t a Beau Brummel, certainly,” 
said Edith; “still he may be a good lawyer.” 
She wondered to herself why she felt like 
resenting Hartland’s disparagement. 

“ Well, if he is, he’ll have a chance to prove 
it this morning, for he’s got the best lawyers 
in town against him.” 

At this moment the buzz of talk in the court 
room was suddenly hushed. 



man, of not over medium 


smooth, close-shaven face, and hair gray 
almost to whiteness, came in from a side 


289 


A Captain of Industry 


door of the court room, ascended the bench, 
and called to the sheriff to open court. 

It was Judge Baldwin. 

Judge Baldwin had been on the bench 
of the circuit court for close upon a quarter 
of a century. First appointed by the governor 
to fill a vacancy, he h; ’ ’ 



nominated and elected 


in the last two elections having been on the 
judicial ticket of both of the leading political 
parties. 

His long retention upon the bench was not 
due, however, to any great personal popular- 
ity, for he had none of the arts of the politician, 
and few of the personal qualities which, 
irrespective of particular fitness for office, 
make their possessor a formidable candidate 
in a plebiscite. Of studious habits and tastes, 
he was given to poring over his books in his 
library rather than to mixing with men; and 
this habit is ordinarily attended with some dan- 
ger to the incumbent of an elective office. A 
measure of dignified reserve and exclusiveness 
is, of course, conceded to a wearer of the ermine, 
but an elective judge holds his office upon a 
rather precarious tenure who gives free indul- 
gence to a retiring disposition, and is unforti- 
fied by exceptional fitness for his office. 


290 


The Hearing of the Case 

Such exceptional fitness, however, in Judge 
Baldwin’s case was evidenced by the united 
support of the bar of the circuit at each recur- 
ring judicial election in which he stood as a 
candidate. The high regard in which he 
was held by the bar was not due so much to 
his legal erudition — marked though that was 
— as to a rare judicial temper, the calm, 
unruflfled evenness with which he held the 
scales of justice, uninfiuenced by — indeed, 
not seeing — the litigants in a case, but with 
eye single to the issues involved. Frail of 
body and with the pale, impassive, unpas- 
sionate face of an ascetic, he hardly seemed 
a man of flesh and blood, to be moved or 
influenced by mortal passions and prejudices, 
but rather like an impersonal instrument of 
the law, meting out its decrees and mandates 
according to their inviolable letter. 

And so it was that lawyers who practiced 
at the bar of Judge Baldwin’s court, however 
much they may at times have been disposed 
to quarrel with the law, had no strictures for 
the judge. 

The sheriff having opened court. Judge 
Baldwin took up the files which lay upon his 
desk. 

“In the matter of Ellerton Iron & Steel 
291 


A Captain of Industry 


Works vs. Gilks, et al. — gentlemen, are you 
ready ?” he said, looking down at the attorneys. 
They having signified their readiness, the 
5 said: 



“In the bill of complaint filed in this case, 
the complainant asks for a temporary injunc- 
tion to remain in force pending the action. 
A temporary restraining order was issued, 
ex parte. The defendants with their answer 
have filed a motion to have the restraining 
order set aside. The question for hearing 
this morning, then, is whether the order shall 
be continued in force until the final decision 
of the case — that is, whether or not the com- 
plainant is entitled to a temporary injunction. 
I will hear the complainant first in the matter.” 

And Judge Baldwin with a slight inclination 
of the head toward Mr. Willard, settled back 
in his chair. 

A proper deference to the demands of 
brevity in this narrative will not admit of a full 
report of the very able and exhaustive argu- 
ments that both Mr. Willard and Mr. Flit- 
w^ood brought forward in support of their 
right to an injunction on behalf of their client, 
nor of the numerous authorities they cited 
in support of their contentions. 

In brief, their contentions were: 


The Hearing of the Case 

1. That the “strike” or concerted walk- 
out on the part of the workmen, was unlawful. 

2. But if such concerted walk-out was 
legal, the threatened and impending strike 
in this case was a strike of the workers’ union, 
and not of the mill employees themselves. 
That it had been declared, or was about to 
be declared, on a vote in the union and not 
on a vote by the employees. 

3. That the union was about to order 
such a strike against the wishes of many, 
if not the majority of the workmen, who 
were entirely satisfied with the compensation 
and conditions of their work, and who were 
desirous of remaining at work. 

4. That by means of threats, coercion and 
violence, the union, through its members, 
agents and oflScers, was about to force all 
the workmen in the mills to leave their work, 
notwithstanding their desire to remain at 
work, and in violation of their contracts with 
the company; and also, by the same means, 
to prevent new men going into the mills to 
take the places of those leaving. 

5. That the workers’ union was an unin- 
corporated, irresponsible organization, which 
could not be made to respond in damages. 

6. That it was an unlawful combination 

293 


A Captain of Industry 

and conspiracy among the workmen, having 
for its object the forcing upon the mill company 
the recognition of such union as the authorita- 
tive agent and representative of the workmen 
in all their relations with the company, and 
to prevent the company from dealing with its 
own workmen directly, and generally to 
interfere with and obstruct the management 
of the mills by the company. 

When Mr. Willard sat down, after a very 
able presentation of the law bearing upon the 
case, following upon Mr. Flitwood’s equally 
cogent presentation and argument upon the 
facts, Mr. Langdon rose for the defendants. 

As has been stated, Langdon had not 
raised any very great expectations in the 
minds of the attorneys present; nor, for that 
matter, in the minds of the other people in 
the court room. And as he now rose, with 
apparent diflSdence and embarrassment, to 
meet the strong case made by the com- 

f )lainant’s attorneys, there were few who 
ooked for anything short of a spectacle of 
incompetence in presence of a great emergency. 

Lawyers and spectators were, however, 
destined to be surprised. 

There goes a saying, “Beware of the man 
of one book.” A like monitory injunction 

294 


The Hearing of the Case 

might well be given as to a lawyer with a 
single base. Such a lawyer will concentrate 
upon that one case the time and thought that 
the busy lawyer divides among a number of 
cases. To the former, too, a successful 
issue, or at all events an adequate handling 
of a single case, usually means much more 
than to the latter, enough more to stimulate 
him to making a most thorough preparation 
of the case and to his best effort in its presen- 
tation. 

Langdon had lived, had, indeed, eaten and 
slept with this case from the time it was 
placed in his hands, and had thus become 
so fully charged with it as to make of himself, 
for the occasion, a legal battery of a most 
powerful voltage. This early became appar- 
ent as he progressed with his argument. 
The embarrassment which he betrayed when 
he commenced to speak, natural enough to 
a lawyer arguing his first important case in 
the presence of a crowded court room, soon 
disappeared and left him master of himself, 
as he was of his case. 

A weightier consideration than a prudent 
economy of space precludes a verbatim report 
of Mr. Langdon’s argument. Such a report 
would be inadequate either to reproduce the 

295 


A Captain of Industry 

speech or to account for its effect. The 
genius of the orator — the essence of eloquence 
— is too elusive to be seized and transferred 
to the printed page. The full power of it 
is felt only in the living presence of the orator, 
when eye and hand, feature and voice — 
the whole man, indeed, enforces and adorns 
the spoken word. 

It might be thought that an equity court 
would not be the most favorable forum for 
oratorical effort. Such efforts are much more 
in vogue in law courts before juries. And 
certainly the average harangues with which 
our embryonic Erskines split the ears of the 
groundling jurors — a maximum of sound and 
a minimum of sense — would be quite out of 
place in a court of equity, even if in place 
anywhere. But there is no tribunal, no 
place, no occasion where word is to be spoken 
that is forbidden to the true orator who 
speaks that word fittingly. 

Mr. Langdon mistook neither the place nor 
the judge to indulge in any mere rhetorical 
pyrotechnics. He would hardly have gone 
very far if he had. Judge Baldwin was given 
to winnowing the chaff from the wheat of an 
argument, and holding verbose and discursive 
attorneys closely to the issues of a case. But 

g96 


The Hearing of the Case 

he did not now check or interrupt Mr. Langdon, 
even though the latter did make an occasional 
digression from the points at issue. Judges 
are inclined to allow some latitude in argu- 
ment to attorneys who combine the ability 
to please with the power to convince. Judge 
Baldwin gave Mr. Langdon not only a close, 
but a pleased and interested attention, as with 
masterful resource he forcefully, cogently and 
eloquently met and combated the points 
raised by the opposing counsel. Nor did the 
judge interrupt him when the stress of his 
argument led him into an impassioned arraign- 
ment of the mill company’s policy toward its 
workmen, and to a comparison of this policy 
as pursued by the president of the company 
with the more generous attitude and conduct 
of his son. The companj^’s policy was the 
traditional policy of capital toward labor, 
the policy of non-intercourse and of selfish 
exploitation; a policy that more than aught 
else was responsible for the strained and 
warring relations between capital and labor, 
and of which unionism in the ranks of labor 
was the direct and necessary fruit. Com- 
bination and concert of action among the 
members of the great army of producers 
represented an intelligent awakening to the 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

necessity of concerted action if they were not 
to see combined capital filch from them more 
than its just share of the avails of production. 
He deplored the fact that the strike had so 
often been used as a weapon of attack rather 
than of defense. But for this labor should 
not have all the blame. Capital must share 
it, in that it had so often pursued a course 
toward labor that had inflamed its passions 
and impelled it to crude and unintelligent 
combat. If labor had thus sinned against 
the letter of the law, capital had sinned 
against its spirit. Could capital cry out upon 
labor, “Peace! Peace!” when it was itself 
responsible for conditions that made for war? 
When it sows the wind should it be surprised 
at its whirlwind harvest ? Peace ? Peace 
would never come, peace could never come 
until the Golden Rule and not the Rule of 
Gold became the standard of business con- 
duct; until a greedy and sordid striving for 
self and pelf gave way to a just and fraternal 
co-operation. Of such co-operation the com- 
plainant company, as well as the entire com- 
munity, had had a striking illustration. Philip 
Middleton had given a notable object lesson 
in industrial ethics. By a course of conduct 
as praiseworthy as it was unusual, he had 

298 


The Hearing of the Case 

set an example to the business world which, 
if heeded and followed, would make an end 
to the fratricidal strife between employer and 
employed. 

Langdon now, with warm words of apprecia- 
tion and praise, spoke of Philip Middleton’s 
relations with the workmen and the company. 
How he had taken upon himself the humble 
toil of the mill, and as he had worked with the 
men, had worked for them. He had not 
thought it beneath him to join their union 
and aid them with his counsels. He had 
helped and inspired them with his friendship 
and in the fullest measure had gained theirs. 
He had thrown the weight of his influence 
against the heavy wage reduction that had 

i )recipitated the present conflict, and had 
abored earnestly for its rescission, even to 
the peril of his own fortunes. 

But he had labored in vain. The father 
arrogantly rejected the wise counsels of the 
son. He took counsel, instead, of his self- 
interest, turned his face against the light, 
and allowed the jingle of the dollar to drown 
the still, small voice of his conscience. Deaf 
to the voice of filial mediation, repelling the 
overtures of friendly conference, unheeding 
even the suggestions of expediency, he had 
£99 


A Captain of Industry 

pursued his fatuous course, and now sought 
the aid of the law in suppressing a rebellion 
that his own selfish policy had aroused. 

Much more of like purport escaped Lang- 
don in the fervor of his speech, unstinted 
praise for Philip finding antithesis in severe 
strictures for his father. 

To most of the spectators outside the bar 
in the court room these touches upon the 
“Middleton affair,” as it was known in the 
parlance of the town gossip, were of much 
greater interest than the law of the case. 
There were not wanting, indeed, a few envious 
persons present who took a secret pleasure 
m this public castigation of Ellerton’s leading 
citizen by an unsparing advocate; and there 
were not a few curious glances directed 
toward Mr. Middleton during Langdon’s 
caustic arraignment. 

And how was Mr. Middleton himself af- 
fected by this storm of invective Strangely 
enough, he showed “a countenance more in 
sorrow than in anger.” His interdict against 
the mention of his son’s name at home, as well 
as his discouraging all talk about him else- 
where, being due to pride rather than real 
desire, had only served to create a hunger 
for the thing he had denied himself. As he 

300 


The Hearing of the Case 

could not now choose but hear, pride insen- 
sibly gave way to natural feeling, and Lang- 
don’s glowing words of praise for Philip fell 
upon his heart like a summer shower upon 
the sun-parched earth. He leaned forward 
slightly in his seat as if fearful of losing a 
word that fell from the lips of the speaker. 
To the censure directed against himself he 
appeared strangely indifferent, taking it, per- 
haps, as the necessary price to be paid for 
what he deemed of greater moment, and 
much as a submissive penitent might take 
the penance imposed for promised absolution. 

When Langdon finished his speech, and 
Judge Baldwin, reserving his decision for 
later announcement, adjourned court until 
the next morning, Mr. Middleton rose from 
his seat with the half-dazed look of a man 
coming out of a stupor. Speaking to no one, 
not seeing any one, indeed, he urged his way 
out of the court room through the buzzing, 
chattering crowd, whose confused voices fdl 
upon his dull ear like the discordant and 
sinister voices of a troubled dream. 


301 


CHAPTER XXV 


Lawyer Langdon has a Caller who is 
NOT A Client 

Edith Middleton followed her father from 
the court room. If there was that in his face 
which showed a somewhat chastened spirit, 
there was nothing in hers that even remotely 
suggested such a state of feeling. Anger was 
there, instead, and mortification, and wounded 
pride; and these expressions were focused in 
one defiant look that she gave Attorney 
Langdon as she passed near where he stood, 
receiving the congratulations of attorneys 
and others upon his great forensic effort. 
Langdon caught this look, and, abashed, his 
eye fell and he mechanically adjusted his 
disarranged cuff. 

Edith’s feelings found a more explosive 
utterance when she and her father reached 
the street. 

“What right had that lawyer to talk about 
you the way he did, papa.?^ How dared he 
do it? Why didn’t the judge or somebody 
else stop him? One would have thought 

302 


Lawyer Langdon has a Caller 

you were on trial for some crime. It was 
simply disgraceful!” 

“Oh, pshaw!” her father laughed. “He’s 
a lawyer. That’s his business. Lawyers 
don’t think they earn their fee unless they 
give the other side a good dressing down. 
Naturally you’re a little surprised at it, as 
it’s the first time you’ve been in court.” 

“His business!” Edith retorted angrily. 
“Well, it ought to be somebody’s business 
to take him to task for it. It was only my 
dread of making a scene that stopped me from 
doing it right there in the court room, when 
he stood there receiving his congratulations 
upon what he no doubt considers a very 
brilliant effort.” 

“I’m mighty glad you didn’t, Edith, for 
people might then have taken what he said 
about me seriously, and I don’t think many 
did — not even Langdon himself.” 

It was hard, indeed, for Mr. Middleton 
to feel unkindly toward Mr. Langdon. For 
if he was disposed to think him not serious 
in his strictures upon himself, he made no 
doubt of his seriousness in what he had 
said about Philip, and the unreserved and 
generous praise he had bestowed upon him 
quite outweighed in Mr. Middleton’s mind 

303 


A Captain of Industry 

the less flattering references to himself. 

On the other hand, with Edith, what Mr. 
Langdon had said in praise of her brother 
was entirely forgotten in her resentment at 
his attack upon her father. Her pride as 
well as her affection had been too deeply 
wounded for her to consider any counter- 
balancing facts or extenuating circumstances. 
Even if she had not been in the court room 
herself and had but been told what Mr. 
Langdon had said about her father, it would 
have been quite enough to arouse her indigna- 
tion. But to have sat in the court room, 
the cynosure of a curious, gossiping crowd 
while the attorney shot forth his shafts of 
unsparing censure — oh ! the thought of it 
was intolerable. 

Her feeling of resentment against Langdon 
was not any the less strong because he had 
at first inspired her with a far different 
feeling. She had not withheld from him the 
homage that beauty pays to intellect, even 
though associated with manifest shortcomings 
as to apparel and person, and so long as 
Langdon had confined himself to the strict 
issues of the case Edith had been a pleased 
listener, with a growing admiration for his 
ability and talents, and an increasing interest 
304 


Lawyer Langdon has a Caller 

in the man himself. But the idol which this 
growing admiration and interest had half 
formed in her mind was ruthlessly and hope- 
lessly shattered when he trained his powerful 
intellectual batteries upon her father. Her 
revulsion of feeling was the more violent 
because she took it for granted that Mr. 
Langdon was aware of her presence in the 
court room; and the thought that this should 
have failed to act as a deterrent of the personal 
attack he had made was a severe blow to the 
pardonable vanity of a sensitive, high-spirited 
girl who, with the accumulated evidence of 
many social conquests, could not well have 
been unconscious of her personal charms. 

If, therefore, she hardly had occasion for 
the feeling of a woman scorned, her anger 
did, nevertheless, almost reach the point of 
fury against the man who had been the cause 
of her humiliation. 

Oh, if she could only see him and speak 
her mind ! was her thought. And this thought 
was strong upon her when, after a hasty 
luncheon m town with her father, she had 
left him, and was walking up the east side of 
the court-house square, intending to do a 
little shopping before going home. Happen- 
ing to glance upward, Langdon’s street sign, 
305 


A Captain of Industry 

swinging and creaking rustily in the light 
wind, arrested her attention. 

There are times when inanimate things 
appear veritably sentient. At that moment 
Langdon’s sign seemed to Edith to be indued 
with a kind of elfish life and to be swinging 
and creaking out its joy over Langdon’s 
brilliant effort of the morning and in malicious 
glee at her own discomfiture. 

Palpable though this Illusion was, it served 
as a final lash to her already overwrought 
feelings and impelled her to a sudden resolve. 
Giving herself no time for reflection she 
darted into the doorway and hurried up the 
stairs. A few steps through the upper hall 
brought her to Mr. Langdon’s door. It 
stood open, and she entered. 

Langdon had but just returned from the 
court-house, where he had been holding an 
impromptu reception to gratify the throng 
of new-found admirers who crowded around 
him after the adjournment of court. On 
reaching his office he had thrown off his 
coat, and when Edith entered was sitting in 
his shirt-sleeves “taking it easy” after his 
usual manner, with feet up on his desk, hands 
behind his head and chair back-tilted. Re- 
lieved of the strain which the case just closed 
306 


Lawyer Lang don has a Caller 

had imposed upon him, he was enjoying that 
complete relaxation of body and mind which 
comes so gratefully after sustained effort. 
He was indulging himself, too, in some 
pleasant reflections upon the events of the 
morning, and making them, not unnaturally, 
the foundation for a few pleasing air-castles 
of professional advancement. 

There was one thing, however, that obtruded 
itself unpleasantly upon his reflections. This 
was the look that Edith Middleton had given 
him as she was passing out of the court room. 
He had no need to conjecture as to what 
had inspired it. It must have been his 
invective against her father. Did she think 
that he knew she was present in court at the 
time.^ Strange as it may seem it was not 
until after the adjournment of court that 
Langdon became aware of the presence in 
the court room of Mr. Middleton and his 
daughter. He had not seen them come in. 
In fact he was so much engrossed with the 
case and his preparation for the argument 
that he was hardly conscious of the presence 
of those immediately about the attorneys’ 
table within the bar. What he had said 
about Mr. Middleton had been directed 
against him as representing the mill company 

307 


A Captain of Industry 

and had been prompted by no feeling of 
ill will toward him personally. But he had 
sufficient recollection of what he had said 
to realize that it could not have been very 
palatable to Mr. Middleton and his daughter 
while sitting in the court room listening to 
it; less palatable, doubtless, to his daughter 
than to Mr. Middleton himself. Langdon 
had little personal acquaintance with Mr. 
Middleton. He had none at all with his 
daughter. He knew that Mr. Middleton had 
a daughter, but beyond having seen her a 
few times she was little more to him than an 
abstraction. The more concrete manifesta- 
tion of herself that she had given to him at 
the court-house was at once pleasing and 

E ainful. The pleasurable thrill that her 
eauty inspired made more keen the sudden 
pang he felt at her angry look. 

“ Confound it ! I wish I could see her 
and explain,” he muttered. “I’d like to tell 
her”; 

With the suddenness of the fabled jinn 
who came to the rubbing of the magic lamp, 
Edith Middleton entered the office, as if m 
answer to Langdon’s wish. 

For a moment Langdon stared at her as 
if she had been an apparition. Then, jump- 

308 


Lawyer Langdon has a Caller 

in^ up, he reached for his coat. 

‘Oh, you needn’t put on your coat, Mr. 
Langdon,” she said bitmgly, as she approached 
his desk. “You will appear more like your- 
self if you remain in your shirt-sleeves.” 

Langdon nevertheless slipped on his coat, 
placed a chair for her, in some confusion, and 
then dropped into his own again. 

Edith remained standing in haughty dis- 
regard of the invitation to be seated. 

“Please don’t put too great a strain upon 
yourself to be polite, Mr. Langdon. After 
your flagrant breach of ordinary civility in 
court this morning, politeness on your part 
now is quite superfluous.” 

“ Miss Middleton, allow me to explain. 
I-_ 

Edith stamped her foot. “ I want no 
explanation,” she interrupted angrily. “ There 
are some things that can’t be explained. 
You can’t explain away a slap in the face. 
I haven’t come to have you explain, but 
only to tell you what I should have had the 
courage to tell you to your face in the court 
room, that the charges and insinuations you 
made this morning against my father are 
false. I can’t conceive what motive you 
could have had in making them. But what- 

309 


A Captain of Industry 

ever your motive was, and however urgent, 
if you had any of the instincts of a gentleman 
you would have refrained from making such 
statements in a crowded court room with my 
father and me there to hear them. I have 
heard something about lawyers not being 
accountable for slanders uttered in court. 
You doubtless took refuge behind that priv- 
ilege. But if I were a man you should not 
slander my father with impunity, and if my 
brother were here he would know how to 
make you answer for such an insult.” 

With every added word that Edith uttered 
the stress of her feeling increased, and when 
she spoke of her brother a poignant realiza- 
tion of her loss came upon her as an over- 
whelming climax, and — she was a woman — 
she burst into tears and sank sobbing into 
the chair she had first refused to take. 

What man ever remained unmoved at the 
sight of a beautiful woman in tears ? Langdon 
rose from his chair and stood for a time 
silent, with his arm resting upon the top of 
his desk. When the violence of Edith’s grief 
had passed, and Langdon had obtained 
suflnicient control of himself to speak, he said 
in a voice that yet trembled with emotion : 

“Miss Middleton, I wish you had let me 

310 


Lawyer Lang don has a Caller 

explain. An explanation might not have 
justified me, but it surely should have mitigated 
my offense. I wanted to tell you that I did 
not know that you were in the court room 
when I was speaking. I did not even know 
that your father was there. Of course, I 
should have known this. But a lawyer is 
sometimes so absorbed in his case that he 
becomes quite oblivious of his surroundings. 
He will often, also, in an excess of zeal for 
his client, and in the heat of argument, say 
things that in his cooler moments he will 
himself disapprove. I think, however, that 
you attached too great significance to what 
I did say. Miss Middleton. My words of 
censure were intended rather for the company 
of which your father is president than for 
your father personally. Still, in my praise 
of your brother I was led to say some things 
in dispraise of your father that would better 
have been left unsaid, and that certainly 
would not have been said had I known that 
you were in the court room. In any case, 
I should have reflected that a man with such 
a son as Philip Middleton was little likely 
to be the hard man that I pictured; and I 
am quite sure he is not that kind of a man, 
now that I have learned that he has such a 

311 


A Captain of Industry 

daughter to defend him. 

“Miss Middleton” — Langdon’s voice fal- 
tered — “ I’m sorry to have caused you pain. 
Believe me, it was unintentional; and I beg 
that you will pardon the hasty words that 
escaped me in the unreflecting heat of my 
argument, words that I now feel were unjust, 
and that I sincerely regret having uttered.” 

Now, Edith’s surcharged feelings having 
found relief in tears, she became quite amen- 
able to explanation and excuse. Indeed, 
Langdon’s assurance that he was ignorant of 
her own and her father’s presence in the 
court room when he was making his argu- 
ment, removed at once the most potent reason 
for her resentment against him, which was 
that he had been guilty of a personal affront 
to herself and to her father. Cleared of this 
reproach, what remained of his offense ? 
Why, little more than that in the heat of 
argument he had been led into an extravagance 
of language for which he now expressed 
regret; language which, she reflected, her 
father had treated lightly, and to which 
personal pique had doubtless impelled her to 
give a too serious meaning. 

But Edith would hardly have been so 
ready now to excuse Langdon had not her 

312 


Lawyer Lang don has a Caller 

quick woman’s instinct detected something 
else. Langdon was not specially adept in 
concealing his feelings. If he had not quite 
betrayed them in the unreserved retraction 
he had made, they must have been revealed 
in the tone of his voice and the expression of 
his face. This expression Edith caught in a 
glance she cast up at him as he finished 
speaking. How tall he was! He seemed to 
tower almost to the ceiling. And the face 
now turned full upon her was no longer a 
homely face, for under the coercion of deep 
feeling it bore the imprint of mind, of soul 
and of character. As Edith lowered her eyes 
from this brief glance upward she could 
still feel Langdon’s large, dark and wistful 
eyes reading her face. Did he see the faint 
color mantling her cheek If so, he might 
have divined m that mute symbol the insen- 
sible recession of all anger and resentment 
under an awakened and uplifting conscious- 
ness, the most precious to a woman’s heart, 
the consciousness of having inspired the 
admiration of a man whom she has learned 
to respect. 

And with this consciousness Edith now 
felt a deep contrition for the hasty and unkind 
words she had spoken. How patient he had 
313 


A Captain of Industry 

been with her through it all! Yes, his had 
been the patience of large natures which are 
like the deep and swift-flowing rivers that 
bend and subdue to their own undeviating 
course the obstacles that arise to impede 
their mighty flow ! Instead of accusing, Edith 
now felt accused. She felt that she had 
done an injury instead of having suffered one. 

“Mr. Langdon,” she said, as she rose from 
her chair and stood before him with eyes 
downcast and with a deepened flush upon her 
face, “I am afraid I have been too hasty. 
I see now that I should have allowed you to 
explain. It would have saved you from the 
unkind and unjust things I said, and myself 
from the mortification I feel at having said 
them. You asked my pardon. I’m not sure 
that there is anything for me to forgive 
after what you have said, but” — a pretty 
little foot emerged from its concealing skirts, 
and softly chafed the floor — “I hope you can 
forget the mean things I said, as well as my 
childish exhibition of weakness. It must have 
bored you dreadfully!” 

“Bored me! Not a bit,” said Langdon 
impulsively. “And as to forgetting, I don’t 
want to forget anything that’s happened — 
now that you want me to.” 

314 


Lawyer Langdon has a Caller 

“Oh!” she said looking up at him archly, 
“you can say nice things, too, can’t you?” 

How lovely she looked to Langdon just 
then ! He felt his knees actually shaking. 

“ But I musn’t take any more of your 
time,” she said, and then as she turned to go: 

“We ought not be enemies now, at any 
rate, Mr. Langdon, even if we can’t be 
friends.” 

“Why can’t we be friends. Miss Middle- 
ton?” 

“Well, friends, then,” and with a sweet 
smile she extended her hand. 

Langdon took it in his own, and its soft 
pressure sent a thrill through him like an 
electric shock. 

Did she have some sense of this? For 
she quickly withdrew her hand, and with a 
light and cheery “good-bye,” she turned and 
hastened from the room. 

Langdon stood and looked after her. He 
heard the rustle of her dress as she passed 
through the hall, the light patter of her feet 
upon the stairs, and he strained his ear to 
catch the last dying sounds of her vanishing 
footsteps. For some time he still stood 
leaning against his desk, with his head bowed, 
in a dreamy, blissful reverie. Absently he 

315 


A Captain of Industry 

then sank into his chair, his arms sought the 
support of the desk, and with a great sigh 
he buried his face in his hands. 

t 


316 


CHAPTER XXVI 
The Decision of the Case 

Judge Baldwin denied the application of 
the mill company for a preliminary injunction, 
and granted Langdon’s motion to vacate the 
ad interim restraining order. 

As the design and scope of this narrative 
will not admit of its assuming the function 
of a legal treatise or of a law report, Judge 
Baldwin’s very learned, lucid and scholarly 
opinion announcing his decision, cannot be 
given. Nor can the report and page be cited 
where this opinion can be found. For the 
lay reader must know that it is not the custom 
to publish the opinions of our State circuit 
and district courts. In some cases this is 
much to be regretted. Many of our nisi 
prius courts are presided over by judges who 
are not only men learned in the law, but 
who possess also the rare gift of literary 
expression which makes their legal opinions 
a pleasing as well as a sound exposition of 
the law. Their decisions, however, are not 
final authority, and so are denied entrance 

317 


A Captain of Industry 

into the sheep-bound volumes of legal prec- 
edent. 

It is still more to be regretted, however, 
that our judicial system is unprovided with 
a legal censorship that should exclude from 
publication a considerable portion of the 
opinions of our supreme courts. Such a 
suggestion may well seem in derogation of 
the august incumbents of these lofty judicial 
seats. For, truly, the elevation of a man 
to the supreme bench is an apotheosis. This 
man is now become a god, and his Olympian 
fulminations are heard with the awesome 
deference due to deliverances from so high 
a source. Mark you now: From the supreme 
bench of a State, hardly out of its swaddling 
clothes of statehood, comes an opinion from 
the Honorable Mr. Littlewit, or the like 
Honorable Mr. Bigbelly. With tedious pro- 
lixity of statement and labored inconsequence 
of argument he stumbles haply upon right 
conclusions from false premises — or the re- 
verse — and straightway this opinion is bruited 
abroad as an authoritative declaration of the 
law, and, when incorporated in a printed 
State Report, enters that legal Valhalla over 
whose portals are inscribed the mystic and 
compelling words, stare decisis. Unfortunately 

318 


The Decision of the Case 

it is not allowed to rest there undisturbed, 
but under the exorcism of the indefatigable 
case lawyer it bobs up in this court and that, 
a monstrum horrendum, to fright the souls 
of fearful adversary attorneys, or, it may 
be, to obscure the vision and paralyze the 
arm of a conscientious judge. 

But if the quality of many of the opinions 
of our courts of last resort leaves much to 
be desired, the quantity of output of these 
opinions is something truly appalling. Sug- 
gestive words were those used by a certain 
learned judge in one of his opinions: “The 
diflSculty is not so much to know the law 
as it is to know where to find it.” Very 
true. And the difficulty in finding it is 
becoming greater and greater with the con- 
stantly increasing number of the printed 
reports that are looked upon as its repos- 
itories. With the briefing of every important 
case the lawyer is confronted with the neces- 
sity of wading through a perfect wilderness 
of decisions, with but the indifferent aid of 
voluminous digests, to search out cases that 
either parallel his own or have some bearing 
upon it; never quite sure, however, that the 
opposing counsel will not at the last confound 
mm with a decision directly in point which 

319 


A Captain of Industry 

has escaped his diligence, and the force of 
which he has had no time to break. 

It is not surprising that representative 
men in the legal profession, finding themselves 
floundering m a veritable Serbonian bog, 
should have sent up a cry for extrication by 
a codification of the law. Certainly that 
or something else is needed to facilitate the 
application and administration of the law, 
and to lift from both bench and bar the heavy 
incubus of case law that is fast becoming 
intolerable. 

But to proceed with our story. Judge 
Baldwin having vacated the restraining order, 
the strike committee were left free to call 
out the men. 

The judge, however, in concluding his 
opinion, offered some words of friendly counsel. 
The law, he said, had not imposed upon 
courts the duty nor given them the right 
to pass upon the merits of disputes of the 
character of the one pending. The court 
could, therefore, only take cognizance of the 
strict legal rights of the contending parties. 
It could concern itself only to protect personal 
and property rights from invasion, and to 
that end hold itself ready to restrain any acts 
that were plainly violative of such rights and 

320 


The Decision of the Case 

were of a nature to demand the immediate 
interposition of the court. Upon the parties 
themselves rested the responsibility, the moral 
obligation, indeed, to settle their differences 
over terms and conditions of employment, 
on a basis of justice, equity, and good con- 
science. And the court could not forbear 
to express the hope that the mill company 
and its workmen, actuated by a spirit of 
fairness, might speedily and peaceably adjust 
their differences by such mutual concessions 
as were necessary to that end, and thus avoid 
the losses, hardships and suffering that a 
protracted strike would necessarily entail. 

When the strike committee waited upon 
Mr. Langdon after the announcement of the 
court’s decision, he called their attention to 
the closing words of the judge’s opinion and 

P revailed upon them to wait until he should 
ave a conference with the mill officials to 
see if something could not be done along the 
line of the judge’s suggestions. 

Mr. Langdon seemed now, indeed, for 
some reason, anxious to have the trouble 
adjusted, and his anxiety in this direction was 
great enough to overcome his repugnance 
to a personal interview with Mr. Middleton. 
In the natural course of things Mr. Langdon 

321 


A Captain of Industry 

should have sought this interview at Mr. 
Middleton’s office. He went to his house 
in the evening, instead. Of course, Mr. 
Middleton was a busy man, whose time 
during the day was valuable, and Mr. Lang- 
don may not have felt justified in encroaching 
upon it. This might serve as a suflacient 
explanation of his call at the house were it 
not for the fact that he was unusually careful 
about his toilet on the evening in question, 
devoting an amount of time to it out of 
all proportion to the exigencies of a purely 
business errand. 

Arriving at the house and calling for Mr. 
Middleton, he was shown into the library 
by the trim little housemaid who answered 
his ring, and here Mr. Middleton shortly 
joined him. 


322 


CHAPTER XXVn 

Sociology 

Mr. Middleton was much more affable 
than Langdon had expected to find him. 
He waived aside the apologies Langdon was 
in haste to make for his inconsiderate words 
in the court room. 

“Oh, you’ve already been taken to task 
for that, I believe,” he said, giving him a 
knowing look and smile. 

Langdon flushed. How much had Miss 
Middleton told her father ? he wondered. 

“Yes, I have,” he said in evident embar- 
rassment. “But I hope I’ve made my peace 
with your daughter, Mr. Middleton.” 

“You seem to have. Your powers of 
persuasion were as effective with her, evi- 
dently, as they were with the court.” 

“ I wish that they might be equally effective 
with you, Mr. Middleton.” 

“ In what way, Mr. Langdon 

“To make you willing to settle this trouble 
with your workmen amicably on the basis 
suggested by Judge Baldwin and in accord- 
323 


A Captain of Indnstry 

ance with his expressed wish.” 

Mr. Middleton’s face clouded. 

“ If Judge Baldwin were running a business 
like mine himself he would think and talk 
more about men and markets than about 
justice, equity and good conscience. That 
sounds all right and very pretty, but it isn’t 
business — ^not by a long shot. A man running 
a business like ours has got to consider 
business conditions; he can’t allow himself 
to be influenced by so-called moral considera- 
tions. 

“Now, what are the business conditions 
that confront our company.?^” 

Mr. Middleton here lighted a cigar. 

“Will you join me?” he said, offering one 
to Langdon. 

“Thank you, Mr. Middleton, but I don’t 
smoke.” 

“Don’t smoke? You deny yourself a great 
luxury, Mr. Langdon.” 

“Possibly, possibly,” replied Langdon, “but 
from the little experience I have had with 
smoking I should be inclined to doubt that. 
I once tried a cigar, but I have never been 
able to muster up sufficient courage to try 
another.” 

Mr. Middleton laughed, settled back in his 
324 


Sociology 

easy chair, and after drawing a few whiffs 
from his cigar with evident satisfaction, he 
continued : 

“ Well, as I was saying, Mr. Langdon, 
what are the business conditions that con- 
front us? Why, a sluggish market for our 
output and a glutted labor market to draw 
upon to produce that output. We can man 
our mills twice over with men at the reduced 
wages we are now paying. Why should 
we paj more? The concern of a manager of 
a business corporation should be to make it 
produce dividends. To that end he must 
conduct the corporation as a trust in behalf 
of the stockholders. If his conscience is to 
figure in it at all, it must be quickened by 
considerations that make for the financial 
welfare of the stockholders, and his duty 
begins and ends v/ith the exercise of his best 
efforts to promote their interests.” 

“You have undoubtedly stated the pre- 
vailing business view, Mr. Middleton, ancl, in 
a strict business sense, perhaps the correct 
one,” said Langdon; “but in a larger sense 
is it the better or the correct view? Within 
the last score years or so, large business 
corporations have multiplied at a surprising 
rate; and at about the same ratio of increase 

325 


A Captain of Industry 

— which must be more than a mere coincidence 
— ^have been the disturbances in the ranks 
of labor. Doesn’t this suggest, Mr. Middle- 
ton, that the management of these corpora- 
tions has been more satisfactory to their 
stockholders than to their employees ? In 
other ways, too, it seems to me, these huge 
corporations have given plain evidence that 
something has been lacking to make them 
an altogether beneficent social force. Thus 
far we have done nothing more than to 
create veritable Frankenstein monsters: big 
and powerful, complete with bones, muscles 
and skin, but soulless and pitiless. To fur- 
ther the one purpose of their creation and 
management — ^the producing of dividends — 
they have evaded the law, overawed courts, 
corrupted legislators, levied tribute upon the 
public through fictitious stock, and, when 
not checked by opposing unions, have pau- 
perized labor.” 

“Whew!” said Mr. Middleton with a 
laugh, not taking Langdon too seriously. 
“You evidently didn’t exhaust all your ammu- 
nition in court. But look here, Langdon, 
these corporations — ^these Frankenstein mon- 
sters, as you call them — are they not a natural 
evolution of the times } This is an industrial, 

326 


Sociology 

wealth-producing age, and are not our large 
corporations the necessary, the inevitame 
outgrowth of the age, and but expressive of 
its spirit? You must admit that they are 
great and valuable economic agencies in the 
concentration of capital for the greater pro- 
duction and distribution of wealth. You 
wouldn’t turn back the hands on the dial 
of industrial progress by doing away with 
them, would you?” 

“No, I wouldn’t do away with them,” 
replied Langdon, “but I would infuse a soul 
into them. I wouldn’t have them so intent 
upon earning dividends as to violate the 
law and trample upon individual rights in 
order to produce dividends. I wouldn’t have 
one standard of ethics for the directors in 
their private lives and another — or none at 
all — in their corporate management. I would 
have moral obligations rest as heavily upon 
the management as business obligations. I 
would have corporations conducted not solely 
as trusts in behalf of the stockholders, but 
also as trusts in behalf of their employees 
and the public as well. Instead of having 
the one and only concern of the management 
that of making a favorable financial showing 
to the stockholders at the annual meeting, 

327 


A Captain of Industry 

I would have it not foreign to a faithful 
stewardship to have showings at such meet- 
ings of wages increased, hours of labor 
shortened, and conditions of labor ameliorated; 
of skilful labor developed and encouraged, 
of output bettered, and prices reduced.” 

Mr. Middleton smiled. 

‘‘Corporation management like that, Mr. 
Langdon, would last only until the stock- 
holders got a chance to vote it out. And 
you couldn’t get people to buy stock in a 
concern that was run on any such altruistic 
lines.” 

“Oh, of course, such corporate manage- 
ment would have to have the support of the 
stockholders,” said Langdon. ‘^But such 
support will be given when stockholders — 
men with money to invest — obey the dictates 
of an enlightened conscience in the invest- 
ment of their money; when the main con- 
sideration will not be, where can they get 
the largest dividends on their money, but 
where can they invest it to the highest social 
usefulness; when they will feel themselves 
morally responsible for the conduct of a 
corporation in which they hold stock, and 
will not complacently draw their dividends 
without a thought or care as to how those 

328 


Sociology 

dividends were earned; when dividends accru- 
ing from corporate management that has 
violated the law, oppressed labor and filched 
extortionate profits from the public, will be 
looked upon as tainted money, that spreads 
the infection of its source in whatever channels 
it may be applied.” 

Mr. Middleton again gave Langdon an 
indulgent smile. 

“You want an industrial millennium, Mr. 
Langdon, which is not yet, and can’t be. 
As I said before, this is a commercial, indus- 
trial and wealth-producing age. The Zeitgeist ^ 
as the Germans call it, impels men to an 
unprecedented activity along industrial and 
commercial lines. And the motive it supplies 
is a selfish, not an altruistic one — that is to 
say, not altruistic in the ordinary sense of 
the word; although able men have pointed 
out that the present great movement toward 
wealth and industrialism is a necessary move- 
ment in order to lay broad foundations of 
material well-being for the society of the 
future.” 

“Yes,” said Langdon, “Matthew Arnold 
q^uotes Mr. Gladstone to that very effect. 
But, while admitting the necessity of the 
movement toward fortune-making and exag- 

329 


A Captain of Industry 

f ;erated industrialism, and allowing that the 
uture may derive benefit from it, Matthew 
Arnold insists, at the same time, that the 
passing generations of industrialists are sacri- 
ficed to it. Arnold does not ask — as he 
well might have asked — whether this sacrifice 
is necessary. And if the inherent and in- 
eradicable spirit of Mammon in the great 
mass of industrialists makes the sacrifice 
inevitable in most cases, still should it not 
be a serious question with eveiy thinking 
man whether he, individually, will sacrifice 
himself upon the altar of this insatiate Moloch 
of commercialism 

“But,” Mr. Middleton interposed, “doesn’t 
the alternative involve just as great a sacrifice ? 
Business success demands business methods 
— a working with, not counter to, the com- 
mercial spirit of the age. Run your business 
on humanitarian lines and, ten to one, you 
run it into bankruptcy.” 

“Well,” said Langdon, “if the chances of 
bankruptcy from such humanitarian manage- 
ment were not any greater than ten to one, 
it might be worth trying as an industrial 
object lesson. But I don’t believe that the 
chances of failure would be as great as that. 
In fact, I don’t see why such a management 

330 


Sociology 

should involve failure at all. I grant you, 
dividends, or the financial returns from in- 
vested capital, might be less — and when I 
admit that I may seem to be giving away 
my whole case — but are not these returns, 
in the main, greater than they should be.?* 
Is not the unearned increment of wealth, as 
it has been called, responsible for most of 
our social ills ? Isn’t it withdrawing an 
increasing number from the ranks of the 
producers of wealth and adding them to the 
ranks of the idle rich, establishing a monied 
aristocracy that makes for a sharper cleavage 
of classes, with the consequent jealousies, 
strifes, baneful emulations and unrest; and 
does it not pile up colossal fortunes that make 
their possessors monied kings more powerful 
for oppression than political kings ever were .?*” 

“Well, what would you have, Mr. Lang- 
don — Socialism .?* ” 

“No. At all events, not as expounded by 
its latter-day advocates. I should not favor 
any system of social reformation that was 
incompatible with the largest individual free- 
dom, and which did not give the widest 
scope for individual effort. As a matter of 
fact, most of the present-day propagandists of 
Socialism go far beyond its greatest apostle 

331 


A Captain of Industry 

in their demands. Karl Marx looked for the 
new social order to come only through the 
slow processes of evolution, and laid principal 
stress upon the ultimate passing of capitalism 
as the dominant social force. It is quite 

P ossible that some form of collectivism will 
e the social order of the future, but it must 
come as a natural, not an artificial, growth. 
No abstract system can be imposed — grafted, 
as it were — upon society. A man who essays 
any such made-to-order reconstruction of 
society — not to speak of the presumption of 
the thing — must encounter the insuperable 
difficulty of formulating a social scheme of 
such universality that it should not only be 
acceptable to the present generation, but 
also meet the needs of generations yet unborn.” 

“I quite agree with you there, Mr. Lang- 
don. Every time, every age, has its ap- 
pointed work, and the prevailing social condi- 
tions will be such as necessarily result from 
the doing of that work, and, in turn, best 
aid the doing of it. It seems to me not only 
unwise, but futile, to attempt to change 
or modify the existing social order which 
has its excuse — its reason for existing — in 
the character and trend of the age.” 

“But if you mean by that, Mr. Middleton, 
332 


Sociology 

must we look for the larger destiny of a race 
or of a people. And as every man is the 
master of his own destiny, so, to the extent 
that he is a unit of the whole, he holds the 
destiny of the world in his hands, and is not 
only the keeper of his own conscience but of 
the conscience of the world.” 

“You are placing a heavy responsibility 
upon the individual, Mr. Langdon,’^ said Mr. 
Middleton with a smile; “a responsibility 
that few men are either conscious of or 
would care to actively assume, if they were. 
Any man who places himself in the way of 
the great mass of moving humanity to obstruct 
or change its course is crushed under its 
weight. He simply makes himself a martyr 
to his fanatical and futile zeal.” 

“Fanatical, sometimes, but not always 
futile, Mr. Middleton. You must admit that 
there have been a few great souls in the world 
who, with the fulcrum of a divine endowment, 
have moved the world and changed the cur- 
rent of its history. True enough, they have 
often been martyrs to their zeal. Martyr- 
dom, in some form or other, seems to be 
the logical portion of these great souls; and 
they themselves have not more clearlv divined 
their great mission in the world than they 
333 


A Captain of Industry 

true that to no such extraneous sources 
must we look for the larger destiny of a race 
or of a people. And as every man is the 
master of his own destiny, so, to the extent 
that he is a unit of the whole, he holds the 
destiny of the world in his hands, and is not 
only the keeper of his own conscience but of 
the conscience of the world.” 

“You are placing a heavy responsibility 
upon the individual, Mr. Langdon,” said Mr. 
Middleton with a smile; “a responsibility 
that few men are either conscious of or 
would care to actively assume, if they were. 
Any man who places himself in the way of 
the great mass of moving humanity to obstruct 
or change its course is crushed under its 
weight. He simply makes himself a martyr 
to his fanatical and futile zeal.” 

“Fanatical, sometimes, but not always 
futile, Mr. Middleton. You must admit that 
there have been a few great souls in the world 
who, with the fulcrum of a divine endowment, 
have moved the world and changed the cur- 
rent of its history. True enough, they have 
often been martyrs to their zeal. Martyr- 
dom, in some form or other, seems to be 
the logical portion of these great souls; and 
they themselves have not more clearly divined 

334 


Sociology 

their great mission in the world than they 
have foreseen their own Calvary at the end. 

A shade crept into Mr. Middleton’s face. 
Was he for the moment mindful of a certain 
young man upon whom he had forced a 
measure of martyrdom for conscientious 
action ? 

“Oh, to be sure, the world has been ben- 
efited by the lives of its great reformers,” he 
said, after a moment’s silence. “On the 
other hand, it would likewise be benefited 
if there were a less number of people who 
think they have a genius for reforming 
society, and who keep it in a continual 
ferment by exploiting their panaceas for 
its evils. They only succeed in fostering 
and augmenting the social discontent. It 
seems to me it’s better to accept conditions 
as we find them and make the best of them.” 

“Perhaps we do have too many reformers, 
or would-be reformers,” returned Langdon. 
“It is no light thing to say, and it is give^ 
to but a few to truthfully say, ‘To this end 
was I born, and for this cause came I into 
the world’; but the full justification of these 
few appears in the results they have produced. 
Still, without minimizing the importance and 
value to society of our preachers of reform, 
335 


A Captain of Industry 

we must in the present age, I think, look 
to the laymen to give the greatest impetus 
and furtherance to social betterment. If we 
accord to the preachers their proper place 
and exalted mission as inspirers of humanity, 
it will not be invidious to say that having, 
as a rule, little first-hand knowledge of the 
conditions they seek to ameliorate, their 
proposals for such amelioration are, in the 
mam, academic and impracticable. Men in 
the active walks of life — business men, our 
great captains of industry and commerce — 
these are the ones to give a new trend to the 
age — an altruistic trend, instead of a selfish 
and self-centred one.” 

“Any such change as that, Mr. Langdon, 
would imply a change in human nature. 
Selfishness is the great human motive power. 
It’s the very mam-spring of our indnstrial 
movement and progress.” 

“And at the same time it is at the bottom 
of most of our social troubles, Mr. Middleton. 
Of course, it is useless to declaim against 
the selfishness of the world, and to try to 
check it by making a purely moral appeal. 
But let an appeal be made to selfishness 
itself. Undoubtedly, the prime object busi- 
ness men have in view in their varied activities 

336 


Sociology 

is the furtherance of their own welfare and 
happiness. How will it be, then, when they 
come to see that their real welfare and happi- 
ness are inevitably advanced by giving an 
altruistic instead of a self-centred trend to 
their activities; when, from the analogy of 
the unit of the familj^, they reach the wider 
conception of the unity of the whole human 
race, and see that the welfare of the individual 
is indissolubly linked with the welfare of all 
mankind?’’ 

“Yes, very true,” said Mr. Middleton; 
“when they see all that. But they are blind 
to anything of the kind now, and few could 
be brought to see it.” 

“From some eyes the scales have already 
fallen, Mr. Middleton. This is attested by 
the princely benefactions of some of our 
wealthy men. True, these benefactions usu- 
ally come from men who have virtually 
retired from business, and much of their 
giving is of a kind that might be termed 
philanthropic dumping. It seems to me that 
their great wealth would have been more 
wisely and beneficently applied had it been 
retailed throughout the active years of their 
lives, and not left to an eleventh-hour whole- 
sale distribution, Such a course— a giving 
337 


A Captain of Industry 

as you go — ^would prevent the useless and 
burdensome accumulation of vast individual 
wealth, which }s really an abnormal growth 
upon our social body politic, just as a tumor 
is upon the physical body; and if remedial 
agencies are not early and persistently applied, 
a surgical operation is necessary in the end, 
if one wishes to get rid of it.” 

“You musn’t push that analogy too far, 
Mr. Langdon,” said Mr. Middleton laughing. 
“You won’t find many, certainly, who will 
see anything malignant in a wealth tumor.” 

“ Well, one kills about as many as the other. 
A physical tumor isn’t really so bad, though, 
for it can only kill the body. The other kind 
often kills the soul of the man who nourishes 
its insidious and unwholesome growth.” 

“ I don’t know about that, Langdon. What 
nourishes wealth ? Isn’t it energy, thrift, 
enterprise, bold initiative.^” 

“I^m not speaking of a competence, Mr. 
Middleton, which is something that every 
man is justified in getting for himself, if he 
can. What I have reference to is great 
wealth, a great fortune. And it will hardly 
be denied that other things besides energy, 
thrift, enterprise and initiative go into the 
acquiring of that.” 


338 


Sociology 

“Even so, Mr. Langdon. It is little of 
this, comparatively, that a man can devote 
to his own personal use. He puts it all, 
virtually, back into the channels of trade 
and business.” 

“Ah! but he never loses control of it, 
Mr. Middleton. It is his to do what he 
pleases with it; and what he pleases to do 
with it is usually to use it solely as a means 
for the further accumulation of wealth, to 
make it wholly subservient to the mania for 
mere money-getting which has come to pos- 
sess him. To this end there is a fierce and 
unwholesome rivalry among men of wealth. 
All seem beset, obsessed, by the same evil 
spirit of gain, and it becomes a mad and 
frenzied race for monied supremacy in which 
the public is rather exploited than beneficently 
served.” 

“The public may sometimes be exploited, 
Mr. Langdon,” said Mr. Middleton, “but 
it is hardly true to say that it is not at the 
same time served. Grant that the motive 
prompting the activities of our men of wealth 
IS a selfish and sordid one, the public profits 
by these activities, does it not ? Do they 
not extend manufactures, commerce, trans- 
portation — business generally, and multiply 

339 


A Captain of Industry 


the conveniences, comforts and luxuries of 
living 

“But we are looking just now at the ethical 
side of the question, Mr. Middleton. Cer- 
tainly, society does profit by the varied 
activities of its men of wealth. Still, I think 
the ethical standards of business might be 
vastly raised without depriving society of any 
practical benefits. Let me go to art for an 
analogy. Have the great works of art been 
produced by the men who were counting 
the money they were going to make out of 
their work, or by those who were careless 
of any material return, and were wholly 
absorbed in bringing their work up to the 
perfection of their high ideals, making it, 
m short, an end in itself and not simjny a 
means to material ends ? Is not the true 
spirit of high and be“ ‘^ — ^ ’ 



sented by such men 


hadn’t time to make money, or by a Spinoza, 
who refuses a legacy, fearing that the care 
of it will affect the quality of his work ? 
Now, something of the same spirit ought to 
prevail in business. Business, industry, com- 
merce, and art, literature and philosophy, 
are, in a sense, co-ordinates in the world’s 
work. High ideals should not be considered 


340 


Sociology 

any more foreign to one than to the other. 
An artist should not be a business man in 
his work, but a business man should be an 
artist in his. What a high tone will come 
to business with the infusion of this artistic 
spirit; when business men will strive for 
excellence rather than gain, and will gauge 
their success, not as now, by the number 
of dollars they have made, but by the per- 
fection of their work, the advancement, com- 
fort and happiness of those associated with 
them in it, and by the measure of its contribu- 
tion to the general social welfare.” 

A brief silence ensued upon Langdon’s 
last words. Mr. Middleton sat thoughtfully 
drawing at his cigar and ringing the smoke 
as he exhaled it. Secretly, he could not 
help warming toward Langdon; for his in- 
genuous, even if unpractical views were of 
the same pattern with those held by his 
own son, and altogether futile were his 
efforts to close his heart to such reminders. 

Scattering the smoke of his cigar with a 
final expulsive blow, he said: 

“And now, Mr. Langdon, I suppose the 
bearing of all this lies, as Jack Bunsby would 
have said, ‘in the application on it.’” 

Langdon smiled. 


841 


A Captain of Industry 

“ WeVe gone pretty far afield, Mr. Middle- 
ton. Much of our discussion can have no 
immediate bearing upon the matter in hand. 
Whatever present application any of it has, 
however, I will leave you to make.” 

Mr. Middleton may have been influenced 
by what Langdon had already said, or — a 
more likely supposition, perhaps — by what 
he subsequently said, when he tactfully turned 
the conversation upon Philip Middleton, and 
thus gave Mr. Middleton what he so much 
hungered after: the opportunity for a con- 
fldential talk about his son. At all events, 
when they came to take up the immediate 
matter in hand, Langdon found Mr. Middle- 
ton not averse to entertaining his suggestions 
for a settlement of the pending trouble at 
the mills. And the interview closed with 
Mr. Middleton saying: 

“Well, Mr. Langdon, just hold the men 
off for two or three days, and we’ll see what 
we can do. I’ll have a talk with Mr. Hartlaiid 
to-morrow, and see how he feels about the 
matter. If the men are disposed to be 
reasonable, perhaps we can reach an amicable 
basis of settlement.” 

With this encouragement Mr. Langdon 
rose to go. Then, as if the thought were one 


Sociology 

of first impression, he said: 

“Oh, while I’m here, Mr. Middleton, I 
trust it will not be too great a presumption 
if I ask to see your daughter.” 

“Presumption? Certainly not, Mr. Lang- 
don,” said Mr. Middleton with an apprecia- 
tive smile. “I’m sure she will be glad to 
have you stay. If you’ll just step over to 
the drawing-room I’ll call her.” 

Leading the way out of the library across 
the hall, Mr. Middleton drew aside the 
portieres of the drawing-room, and requesting 
Langdon to be seated he went up-stairs and 
announced to Edith the unexpected caller 
who waited below. 


343 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


From the Library to the Drawing-room. 

Oh, the wonder, the mystery, the glory, 
the fearfulness of sex! That strange and 
mysterious duality of organized life. The 
positive and negative generation of nature’s 
great dynamo. Life’s primal, elemental and 
fundamental force — ^measuring the fullness, 
richness and the joy of life by the amperes 
of its dynamic energy! 

The highest manifestation of this force — 
the love of man for woman, has ever been a 
fruitful theme for poets and romancists. 
Love has been their absorbing and all- 
sufficient motif, and for them it has had 
neither material essence nor analogue, nor 
any earthly alloy. In their rhapsodies it has 
been a heaven-born flame, kindling in the 
heart of man the noblest, the loftiest aspira- 
tions, and lighting him to the way Elysian. 
What beautiful illusions, truly, have been 
spun for our delectation by these imaginative 
poets of verse and prose! And yet, are they 
not to be envied who can long retain such 

344 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

illusions unshattered by the cold, prosaic 
facts of experience ? 

The love of man for woman! No man 
ever escaped it. No man ever can or would 
escape it. In that trinity of appetite: hunger, 
thirst and sex, the last is easily first. For 
the greater part of the race, indeed, Cupid 
and Venus have ever been the tutelar deities. 
And what a part, too, they have played in 
mundane affairs! In the great drama of 
life, of the world’s history, they have been 
the real protagonists, even though Mars and 
Minerva may have held the center of the 
stage. 

The story of the abduction of Helen and 
the resultant Trojan war may be mythological 
in its facts, but it is deeply true in its sym- 
bolism. The learned and philosophic, not 
to say metaphysical, historian, given to assum- 
ing a subjective rather than objective attitude 
toward the world, is prone to dignify the 
narrative of an important event with an 
imposing producing cause, and his pa^es are 
sometimes, therefore, not so informing as 
to the true genesis of the epoch-making 
events of history as are the more intimate 
memoirs of a court chronicler or the journal 
of a contemporaneous diarist. These latter 

345 


A Captain of Industry 

records often disclose that great events have 
frequently had apparently adventitious causes: 
notably, that as in the affairs of individuals 
so, often, in the larger affairs of nations, 
there has been “a woman in the case”; and 
great things have fallen out more through 
feminine intrigue than studied policy; through 
the secret machinations of some female 
kitchen-cabinet rather than through the delib- 
erations of august councils of state. Indeed, 
it would seem as if woman, denied a direct 
share of political control, had determined to 
requite herself and to secure such share by 
indirection. It is worthy of note, certainly, 
that in one country under whose organic 
law women are precluded from succession 
to the throne, there, by the irony of fate, 
woman has always had the greatest political 
influence, and in spite of its Salic Law that 
country during some of the most important 
periods of its history has found itself subject 
to the rule of a powerful though covert 
gynocracy. 

The love of man for woman! — ^to revert 
to our text after the orthodox manner. Old 
Father Time, with his inexorable scythe, has 
been no greater leveler than has Cupid with 
his bow. The proponents of a universal 
346 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

democracy might well canonize the little god 
and make him their patron saint; for he 
has always been a thorough-paced democrat. 
Recking not of rank or station, he shoots his 
twin darts linking high and low degree : 
A wealthy Boaz with a Ruth gleaning in 
his fields (fin de siecle, his typewriter), a 
King Ahasuerus with an Esther, a humble 
virgin of his realm, or a Goethe and a Chris- 
tiane, mirrored in the Faust and Gretchen 
of the poet’s creation. Cupid’s method, in 
short, is the simple one of natural selection. 
And he will have his way in spite of the 
artificial and conventional barriers that are 
set up to divert his true course. He will 
often overleap these barriers with a morganatic 
marriage, or, in the last extremity, by those 
other left-handed nuptials in which he him- 
self is the only celebrant. 

The love of man for woman! What has 
it done for man.^ It has made him a god, 
and it has made him a devil; a wise man 
and a fool. It has impelled him to deeds 
of noblest daring and self-sacrifice, and it 
has been the paltry mess of pottage for which 
he has sold his birthright. It has been 
his great strength, and his pitiful weakness; 
the lodestar whose bright ray has guided 

347 


A Captain of Industry 

his steps into the path of life, and the treach- 
erous ignis fatuus that has lured him into 
the morass of sensuality and death. It has 
been Beatrice — Heavenly Love — inspiring a 
Dante to pen a “Vita Nuova’’ and a “Divine 
Comedy,’^ and it has been Delilah robbing 
a Samson of his strength and his sight, or a 
Cleopatra transforming a noble Antony into 
a weak voluptuary by the infatuation of her 
thrice-sold charms. 

Well, now, with all this thundering in 
the index of this chapter, will the reader 
see an anti-climax in what is to follow — a plain 
and unadorned page or two of incidents 
growing out of that most common of all social 
phenomena, the love of a man for a maid ? 

We have seen Mr. Langdon in court, 
strong in argument, in intellectual mastery 
of his case, and fearless in his advocacy of the 
rights of labor and in denunciation of its 
supposed oppression. We have just now seen 
him, not a whit abashed, boldly maintaining 
his somewhat radical social views before a 
man to whom such views were little likely 
to be very agreeable. Is this, then, the same 
person that we now see in the drawing-room 
of the Middleton mansion awaiting Miss 
Middleton in a fever of expectancy ? 

348 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

Yes, the same, and yet not the same, either. 
Strange that the mere passing from the 
library to the drawing-room should have 
wrought such a change in him. Here he 
sits in a straight-backed chair — the most 
uncomfortable chair he could find, of course 
— sitting on it rather than in it, it should be 
said, for he took up less than half the seat 
of it, deeming it, doubtless, too great a pre- 
sumption to get all the comfort there was 
in the chair by occupying the whole of it. 
Now, Mr. Langdon, it will be remembered, 
was a tall man, and a due proportion of his 
tallness was distributed in his legs. As he 
now sat, therefore, with feet firmly planted 
on the floor and with the meager embrace of 
the chair as before stated, he hardly pre- 
sented the picture of a man at his ease. 

There were not wanting other signs of 
perturbation. Several times he drew his 
pocket-handkerchief to wipe the gathering 
moisture from hand and brow; and had one 
placed a hand upon his breast over the region 
of his heart, he would have discovered the 
rapid fire of that sympathetic organ which 
evidences its advance upward into the mouth. 
From time to time he cast furtive glances 
around the room, only to be increasingly 

349 


A Captain of Industry 

disquieted hy every fresh evidence that met 
his eye of its rich and elegant furnishing. 
A veritable Aladdin’s palace it seemed to 
him, and he an intruder within its awesome 

E recincts. However much he would have 
een disappointed, it would not have greatly 
surprised him had the maid appeared with 
the conventional “not at home” to signify 
Miss Middleton’s refusal to see him. 

Would she, indeed, see him ? was his 
disturbing query. True, her father had said 
that she would be glad to have him stay. 
But with no certainty that he had ingratiated 
himself into that gentleman’s good opinion 
he could not be sure that Mr. Middleton 
would be averse to having him subjected 
to a snub at the hands of his daughter in 
retaliation for his excess of zeal on behalf 
of the mill workmen. Nor was he at all 
sure that he had found any favor in the 
eyes of Miss Middleton herself that would 
make her unwilling to administer such a 
snub. Some resentment over his speech in 
court might still be smoldering in her heart 
which his presence might blow into open 
flame, making her welcome this opportunity 
to humiliate him. Even if that wound had 
been healed, the league of friendship that 
350 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

had been struck between them at his oflBce 
might have been on her part only a truce 
to open hostility, not an invitation to the 
closer acquaintance which he now sought. 
He had, moreover, a poignant realization of 
the disparity of wealth and social position 
between them — barriers that might well make 
her reluctant to receive him as a caller at 
her home. 

In short, Langdon was in that state of 
self-depreciation and disparagement, of ex- 
treme modesty as to personal merit, that men 
of ingenuous nature fall into when making 
their first advances in an affair of the heart, 
which leads them to magnify the difficulties 
of their situation, and makes them keenly 
apprehensive of an unfavorable issue. 

And now there falls upon Langdon’s ear 
the soft rustle of a dress upon the stairs. 
His heart almost stops beating. 

Is it maid or mistress ? 

A maid it was — the fairest that Langdon 
had ever looked upon; and sovereign mistress 
of his heart was she now to be forevermore ! 

The golden chain which began its forming 
the day she was at his office, and which had 
been growing link by link through the insen- 
sible forging of his imagination and fancy, 

351 


A Captain of Industry 

received its last link and its lock, holding 
him in its irrevocable enslavement, as the 
most transporting form of feminine loveliness 
now came up to him and greeted him cordially. 

Langdon had just presence of mind enough 
to rise and stammer out: 

“You see. Miss Middleton, I — I am early 
availing myself of one of the privileges of 
friendship — we were to be friends, you know.” 

“That’s right,” Edith said gaily as she 
threw herself easily upon a luxurious divan 
that made a most charming setting for her 
pretty figure. “I hope you and papa are 
friends, too, now that you have had a talk 
with him. He isn’t such a wicked man after 
all, is he 

“Wicked.?” said Langdon as he reseated 
himself stiffly. “I ought to be the last man 
to say so now, since he has been so generous 
as to permit me to see his daughter.” 

“Oh!” Edith laughed, “you mustn’t rest 
the whole case on that, Mr. Langdon, for he 
knows what happened the last time you saw 
me.” 

“So it seems,” said Langdon, throwing his 
right leg over his left and then quickly bring- 
ing it to the floor again. “But he assured 
me that I had made my peace with you, 

352 



“ Do take a more comfortable chair, Mr. Langdon.” 





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From the Library to the Drawing-room 

Miss Middleton, so there could hardly have 
been any malice in his allowing me to see you.” 

Langdon here made a try of his left leg 
over his right, but as hastily put that down 
also when he found its elevation equally 
ineffective as an aid to his composure. 

“Oh, no very deep malice, perhaps; but 
do you know, Mr, Langdon, he has com- 
missioned me to ‘ put on the gloves with 
you’ — that’s the way he put it. He says 
you have some strange ideas about things.” 

“Oh, he did, did he.^^” said Langdon, 
illustrating some rather strange ideas about 
drawing-room sitting postures by grasping 
the back of his chair with both hands, shoot- 
ing his feet backward, and tilting the chair. 
Then remembering that he was not sitting 
with other lawyers around the court-house 
stove, he let tne chair down, tangled his 
feet under it, and clasped his hands on top 
of his head. 

“Do take a more comfortable chair, Mr. 
Langdon,” said Edith, secretly amused at 
Langdon’s all too apparent embarrassment. 

“No, thank you, I’m quite comfortable,” 
replied Langdon, and then augmented his 
appearance of discomfort by throwing an 
arm over the back of the chair, which being 
353 


A Captain of Industry 

rather high made his position faintly sug- 
gestive of an arboreal atavism. 

“I’m sure you can’t be in that straight- 
backed chair, Mr. Langdon. Take this 
chair,” Edith insisted, indicating a large, 
upholstered spring rocker near her. 

With considerable diffidence Langdon left 
his chair and seated himself in the rocker 
with anything but Chesterfieldian grace. 

“Now tell me, what have you and papa 
been talking about.?” Edith said, settling 
herself back upon the divan and giving 
Langdon an assuring look and smile. “This 
horrid trouble at the mills, I suppose.” 

“Yes, I came to see if we couldn’t effect 
a settlement of it,” said Langdon, giving his 
chair a short rock and inwardly wondering 
whether it would not have been better had 
he confined himself to this business. 

“Oh, I do hope it will be settled,” said 
Edith, giving Langdon an appealing look 
as if it lay entirely in his power to make the 
settlement. 

“Yes, so do I,” said Langdon, with an 
impulsiveness that left no doubt that settle- 
ment would have been made instanter now 
that she desired it, if it had been in Langdon’s 
power to effect it. 


354 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

“It seems to me the men are very foolish 
to go out on a strike now when times are 
so hard and there are so many men out of 
work.” 

“Yes, they are,” returned Langdon, giving 
his chair another short rock and having 
recourse to his handkerchief. 

“Under the present business conditions,” 
Edith pursued using a set phrase for which 
she must have been indebted to her father, 
“the men ought to be willing to work for 
less, it seems to me.” 

“Yes, they ought,” assented Langdon whose 
eye at that moment fell upon the daintiest 
little blue silk slipper that modestly protruded 
from my lady’s skirts; and this bewitching 
accessory to her loveliness sent Langdon off 
into a number of short, nervous rocks of 
his chair and another dive for his handkerchief. 

It is not past belief, indeed, that had Edith 
made the glaring statement that in the exist- 
ing state of things the men should have been 
willing to work for nothing, it would have 
met with no hesitant concurrence from Lang- 
don. 

Langdon was, in short, in that state of 
mind, or absence of mind, in which one is 
like to find himself who after years of abstin- 
355 


A Captain of Industry 

ence from feminine society essays the gentle 
art of making love. For love-making is, 
indeed, one of the fine arts; and to be an 
adept at it requires some apprenticeship. 
So far as women were concerned Langdon 
had been a man of the cloister. For if he 
had not, like the recluse of the monastery, 
guarded himself from the disturbance of 
feminine charms by the expedient of the 
downcast eye when passing a woman, he 
had, nevertheless, quite effectually excluded 
women from his life hitherto by the expulsive 
power of his ambition for self-advancement, 
and by his realization of the necessity thereto 
of husbanding the always slim resources of 
his exchequer. Like ^neas of old, who with 
the mission imposed upon him by the gods, of 
founding a great city upon the shores of 
Latium, tore himself away from the Car- 
thaginian Dido who would detain him, so 
Langdon, strong in his ambition to carve 
out a career for himself, had thought it neces- 
sary to relieve himself of all feminine im- 
pedimenta. For had he not read and cor- 
rectly translated from one of the standard 
classics how the women were kept in the 
rear of the army “with the rest of the bag- 
gage?” 


356 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

But a man who has pursued such a policy 
of repression and abstinence will be at a 
great disadvantage when he comes finally 
to make his debut as a lover; and it should 
not be a matter for surprise if in this first 
entrance into Cupid’s domain he does not 
score a very brilliant success. 

This is not saying, however, that such a 
man may not sometimes be a very interesting 
person. Langdon certainly was to Edith. 
He was a new species of the genus homo 
in her experience. Accustomed as she was 
to adulation and flattery her admirers had 
always veiled or tempered their attentions 
by that fine savoir faire of polite society, the 
accomplishment of drawing-room habitues, 
of those to the manner born. But here was 
a man of extreme remove from such as 
these; a man who was evidently a stranger 
to drawing-rooms, nor schooled in their small 
hypocrisies that he could conceal all evidences 
of the tender passion that overmastered his 
hitherto virgin heart. 

Edith would not have been a woman 
had not her vanity been somewhat flattered 
by this open tribute to her power. There 
was something delicious in the writhings of 
this strong man under his bonds. 

357 


A Captain of Industry 

But, if Langdon thus wore his heart upon 
his sleeve, Edith was not disposed, as many 
of her sisters would have been, to wantonly 
peck at it. She knew that behind this appar- 
ent tyro of the drawing-room was the man 
she had seen and heard in the court room 
and at the office: the man of character, of 
ability and of soul. And, like Bassanio before 
the caskets, she felt that here outward shows 
might be least themselves and that a leaden 
casket with its plain and unpromising exterior 
might hold treasured contents that the more 
promising caskets of gold and silver had 
often failed to disclose. 

And this strong man disguised Edith was 
anxious to draw out. To do this she must 
find some means to place Mr. Langdon at 
his ease. Where should she find the key 
to the leaden casket ? 

Langdon himself furnished her with it. 

The drawing-room piano — a magnificent 
parlor-grand, imposing with its upraised top 
— inspired Langdon to add to his share in 
the conversation — hitherto consisting largely 
of monosyllabic responses — by making an 
original observation. 

“A beautiful piano,” he said. 

“Yes,” assented Edith with an amused 
358 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

smile. “Papa gave me that for a Christmas 
present. You don’t wonder, now, that I 
think a great deal of him, do you 

“No, indeed. But I have no doubt you 
have requited his kindness by playing for 
him,” said Langdon, quite surprising him- 
self with this apt rejoinder. 

“Oh, yes. He is very fond of music, 
and loves to have me play for him.” 

“Your friends, too, I suppose, sometimes 
have the privilege of hearing you.” 

Edith laughed — a light, rippling little laugh 
— at the not very heavily veiled request and the 
refreshing ingenuousness of Langdon’s dis- 
regard of the conventions of a first call. But 
he seemed to be thawing out a little, and 
perhaps a piece or two of music would accel- 
erate the thawing-out process. 

“Yes, my friends do sometimes hear me 
play,” she said, “but I shouldn’t dare say 
that they always consider it a privilege. 

“ I’ve been practicing one of Chopin’s 
nocturnes,” she added, “ and if you’ll promise 
not to be critical I’ll try it.” This last with 
an arch look at Langdon. 

Langdon promised. And he was troubled 
with no doubts as to his ability to redeem this 
promise. 


359 


A Captain of Industry 

With a charming sprightliness Edith rose 
and went over to the piano. 

“You’ll have to come and help me get 
the top down, Mr. Langdon.” 

Langdon came forward with awkward hesi- 
tancy and took hold of the piano-top while 
Edith drew down the supporting rod. But 
the proximity to Edith in which this operation 
brought Langdon was disconcerting to him, 
and he let the top come down upon his hand. 

“Oh, I hope you haven’t hurt your hand, 
Mr. Langdon,” Edith said sympathetically. 

“Oh, not at all,” said Langdon, belying 
his words by involuntarily thrusting his hand 
into his pocket. 

Edith seated herself at the piano. 

“Shall I turn the pages for you.^^” said 
Langdon. 

“No, thank you,” Edith replied with ^an 
amused smile. “I’m going to try this with- 
out my notes. 

“But you needn’t go so far away, Mr. 
Langdon,” she said, as Langdon made to 
return to his former seat. “Sit down here,” 
— indicating a chair near her. Langdon seated 
himself in the chair indicated. 

Edith lightly ran over a bar or two of the 
music. 


360 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

“Have you heard this, Mr. Langdon — 
Liszt’s arrangement of Chopin’s Twelfth 
Nocturne ?” 

Had Langdon heard it? No, he had not. 
Langdon lived at a boarding house, and 
some idea of the character of the music with 
which he was entertained there may be 
gained by knowledge of the fact that it was 
furnished by the landlady’s daughter on the 
typical boarding-house piano of early vintage, 
and from a repertoire containing such musical 
gems as “Beautiful Snow,” “The Maiden’s 
Prayer,” and “ Only One Lock of Her Hair.” 
Perhaps the piece de resistance of her collec- 
tion, however, and one well calculated to 
move to activity the lachrymal glands of the 
most stoical, was a vocal duet entitled “Oh 
Why Did They Dig Ma’s Grave So Deep?” 
which, with the assistance of her younger 
sister (both singing in the same voice — a 
thin soprano), was given a very feeling rendi- 
tion. 

No; Langdon had not heard Chopin’s 
Twelfth Nocturne. And when Edith gave 
an appreciative interpretation of this master- 
piece of the great Polish composer, Langdon 
seemed to be lifted into a new and rarer 
atmosphere that drove his blood to a more 

361 


A Captain of Industry 

rapid coursing and fired his imagination to 
that pitch of exaltation and lofty aspiration 
which lies on the borderland of intoxication. 

Chopin may well have laid the foundation 
for the romantic attachment which George 
Sand conceived for him by playing his Twelfth 
Nocturne to her. Edith’s rendering of it 
certainly put the capstone upon Langdon’s 
devotion,' and she might have read m his 
face evidences of her double success as she 
turned toward him after finishing the piece. 
She doubtless did read something there besides 
an appreciation of her playing, for with 
just the slightest show of embarrassment she 
asked conventionally: 

“Are you fond of music, Mr. Langdon?” 

“I never heard any before. Miss Middle- 
ton.” 

“ Oh, how complimentary you are, Mr. 
Langdon,” said Edith with a pleased smile. 
“You really deserve another piece for that.” 

“Then in this case I sham’t hesitate to 
claim my deserts,” replied Langdon, with a 
quickness and boldness that showed the 
music was having a salutary effect upon him. 

With a gracious compliance Edith again 
turned to the piano and played Schubert’s 
melodic Serenata, and followed this with 

362 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

the quaintly plaintive Au Printemps of Grieg. 

Elisha Langdon had not had the benefit of 
a musical education, and he would probably 
have sat a rather indifferent listener at an 
orchestral rendering of, say, one of Brahms’ 
elaborate symphonies. But he was not with- 
out music in himself, even to an appreciation 
of the great masters, when they spoke — as 
they did speak in the selections Edith had 
played — in a language he could understand. 

The great poet was doubtless right in his 
characterization of the man who was not 
moved with concord of sweet sounds. But 
mark the words: concord of sweet sounds. 
Shall we be charged with affections dark as 
Erebus if we are not moved (pleasurably) 
with the discord of harsh sounds which 
characterizes so much of our so-called high 
class music So long as music is diverted 
from its natural and legitimate province of 
lyric expression to a labored painting of 
human emotions in tone-colors ; from an appeal 
to the ear with sweet melody to a challenge 
to our analytic faculties in discovering and 
following involved and elusive themes, there 
will always remain a large and respectable 
body of the musically unenlightened. 

Fortunately for them, these benighted ones 

363 


A Captain of Industry 

will not be without a few formidable de- 
fenders and apologists. Was not Rubin- 
stein — ^that colossal genius of the pianoforte 
— ^to the last a defiant enemy of the Wagnerian 
school ? And has not that doughty iconoclast, 
Max Nordau, placed the great exponent of 
“problem music” among his degenerates? 

At any rate, the significant fact remains, 
that one must be educated to an appreciation 
of much of the music that bears the hall- 
mark of the classic; an appreciation that will 
be intellectual, not sensuous. And it is 
feared that even this appreciation must often 
be somewhat discounted by the hypocrisy 
that is frequently hidden behind the bravo 
and handclapping of the would-be musically 
elect. 

There certainly was no hypocrisy in Lang- 
don’s expression of his appreciation of Editn s 
music. It was something more than the 
mere discharge of the conventional obligation 
of the drawing-room. It was the sincere 
utterance of a heart whose hunger — hitherto 
an unconscious hunger — ^had been fed with 
ambrosial manna. 

And the music did have the effect of putting 
Langdon at his ease, as Edith had* hoped. 
The oppressive self-consciousness that nad 
364 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

so clogged both his thoughts and his tongue, 
disappeared, and with the resources of a 
well-stored mind to draw from he had no 
difficulty in making his conversation interest- 
ing to Edith. Indeed, she soon contrived 
to let him do most of the talking. Encourag- 
ing him with sympathetic questions she led 
him to talk about himself : to tell of the 
privations of his early years, his struggles 
for an education, his college days, his novitiate 
at the bar, and of the many interesting 
incidents that fall out in the course of a young 
man piloting his own boat upon tempestuous 
waters and through rock-girt channels. Not 
unlike the fair Desdemona who with greedy 
ear devoured the discourse of the swarthy 
Moor, Edith listened to Langdon. And in- 
sensibly there began to form in her mind 
an ideal: a strong, resourceful man, a man of 
serious purpose, of high ideals, and of worthy 
ambitions; a man who should gain and hold 
her respect and homage by reason of his 
constant appeal to what was highest and 
best in herself, and under the protection of 
whose strength her own life should find its 
expression and fruition. 

On what swift wings flies the time when 
a man and a maid, each inspirited by the 

365 


A Captain of Industry 

magnetism of the other’s presence, hold 
delightful converse! 

Langdon thought to look at his watch. 

“A thousand pardons, Miss Middleton, 
for my thoughtlessness in staying so late,” 
he said, as he hastily arose to go. “I sha’n’t 
tell you what time it is, and I hope you won’t 
look at the clock.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I should be very badly 
frightened if I did know the time,” Edith 
said, smiling, as she arose to accompany 
Langdon from the drawing-room into the 
hall. “It was rather late when you called 
for me, you must remember. You spent 
part of the evening with papa.” 

“True, I should be credited with the time 
I spent with your father. And I hope he 
will be as generous in allowing the credit 
as you have been.” 

“You need have no misgiving on that 
score, Mr. Langdon. Papa lets me keep all 
such personal accounts.” 

“ That’s another point in his favor. I 
see I shall have some very substantial credits 
to make in my ledger account with him.” 

“ And you’ll make them without being 
forced at the point of a sword said Edith, 
laughing. 


366 


From the Library to the Drawing-room 

“Yes,” replied Langdon, joining in the 
laugh. 

“ I hope the hill won’t deter you from 
calling again, Mr. Langdon, even when you 
haven’t business with papa,” Edith said 
as Langdon opened the front door to go. 

“ The hill ? Why, Miss Middleton, I could 
climb mountains to pass another such 
pleasant evening.” 

“Oh, could you.^” laughed Edith. “Well, 
then, as the hill is hardly a Matterhorn or 
a Jungfrau, I shall expect to see you again.” 

“It is not a Jungfrau — no,” said Langdon, 
“although there is a jung frau at the top 
of it that should make the ascent of the hill 
easy.” 

‘^Oh, what an awful pun, Mr. Langdon! 
Really, I think I should withdraw my invita- 
tion for that.” 

“That would be too severe a punishment 
for my offense. Miss Middleton, atrocious 
as I must admit the offense was.” 

“Well,” said Edith, “I’ll devise a proper 
penalty and impose it when you come again.” 

“Be merciful. Miss Middleton.” 

Edith smiled reassuringly. 

“Good-night!” 

“ Good-night!” 


367 


A Captain of Industry 

If, the next time he called, Langdon made 
the ascent of the hill with the space-annihilat- 
ing gait that he now descended it, he would 
certainly have deserved a medal as a hill 
climber. The elation of his mind seemed 
to be communicated to his feet, for his long 
strides homeward were wonderful to behold 
— or, rather, would have been wonderful 
to behold had there been any one abroad 
at that time of night to see him. As he 
walked he occasionally bared his head to 
receive the grateful cooling of the night 
wind upon his brow, anon gazing upward 
at the star-studded sky and at the full round 
moon, now high advanced in the heavens. 

All the world loves a lover ? Aye, the 
whole universe holds him in its heart’s core. 
Even now, as Langdon stood silent, gazing 
upward, thinking thoughts all too sweet for 
utterance, the bright, shining moon beamed 
down upon him approvingly, and even the 
stars seemed to be twinkling their felicitations ! 


368 


CHAPTER XXIX 


Mr. Middleton Treads the 
Wine-press 

Mr. Middleton added somewhat to the 
monthly gas bill himself that night. Long 
after Edith had closed her account in that 
matter, her father continued adding to the 
debit side of his. 

Had any one looked in upon Mr. Middleton, 
however, as he paced the floor from his 
bedroom to the adjacent study, he would 
readily have conjectured that something be- 
sides household expenses was absorbing his 
thoughts, making him quite oblivious of the 
remorseless registering of the gas meter in 
the basement. 

In short, having closed with Langdon, 
Mr. Middleton was now having it out with 
himself. The generous impulses which the 
talk with Langdon had stirred within him, 
and which had prompted his words of encour- 
agement to Langdon at the close of the 
interview, suffered some abatement when he 
came upstairs to his own room began 
369 


A Captain of Industry 


coolly to reflect upon the import of the assur- 
ances he had given and upon the probable 
consequences of making them good. 

To what had he given an implied, if not 
an express consent To a compromise with 
the mill men. Was not this a thing that 
he had hitherto scouted and refused.^ Had 
he not denied it to the solicitation of his own 
son, to the overtures of the workmen’s com- 
mittee, and but lately to the suggestions of 
the court Would not such a concession 
now look like a capitulation by the company 
to its workmen, turning their technical and 
insubstantial victory in court into a substan- 
tial one on the merits of the controversy.^ 
Mr. Middleton’s pride rose in revolt against 
such an apparent back-down. There was 
no necessity for it. It would amount to a 
voluntary allowance of what the present 
business conditions did not compel the com- 
pany to grant. Let the workmen strike. 
There would be no trouble in manning the 
mills; and any temporary losses would be 
more than made good by the less heavy 
drafts of the new pay-roll. 

Yes — Mr. Hartland was right. The com- 
pany held the best cards just now, and all 
that was necessary to do was simply to 


370 


Mr, Middleton Treads the Wine-press 

“stand pat.” They were bound to win out. 

And yet — ^the gas went on burning in 
Mr. Middleton’s room, and he continued 
pacing the floor. He could not rest satisfied 
with these conclusions of cold business logic. 
Factors hitherto virtually negligible disturbed 
their convincing finality. Strange as it may 
seem, into Mr. Middleton’s business vocabu- 
lary were now intruding such exotics as 
“duty,” “justice,” and “moral obligation” 
— widening the horizon that bounded his 
relations with his employees beyond the 
circumscribed limits of the market-place, and 
giving a more complex character to the 
formula for business conduct than the simple 
one of two and two make four, and twice 
three is six. 

Now, how does it happen that Mr. Middle- 
ton should be giving harbor to thoughts so 
variant from those habitual to him ? 

When Philip in his parting letter to the 
union suggested that his going away might 
help the men more than his remaining at 
home, he probably had in mind the emphasis 
such a course would give to his protest against 
the company’s policy, rather than that it 
would have any great softening influence 
upon his father. 


371 


A Captain of Industry 

But Mr. Middleton’s affection for his son 
was the one vulnerable point in his armor. 
And here he had been dealt an unhealable 
and torturing wound by Philip’s sudden and 
unfilial departure from home. The punitive 
measures he had taken against Philip, recoil- 
ing as they did upon himself, only served 
to irritate this wound. His pride prevented 
him from withdrawing the prohibition he had 
placed upon the mention of Philip’s name 
at home; but he would have been better 
pleased had this command been more honored 
m the breach than in the observance. 

Denying himself these verbal reminders, 
he went out of his way to get others. Two 
or three times recently he had gone into 
the mills on rather slender pretexts, and each 
time his not very clearly defined purpose 
took him by the rolls where Philip’s station 
had been. The sight of John Waters fell 
like a balm upon his lacerated feelings, and 
prompted a friendly nod to him as he passed 

Just as little excuse had Mr. Middleton 
for his freq^uent visits to Philip’s room at 
home as well as to his dressing-room in the 
office building. Numerous here were the 
things to awaken remembrance that the 

372 


Mr. Middleton Treads the Wine-press 

former occupant had left behind him. 

A more forcible and painful reminder 
came to him that very evening when, on 
alighting from his carriage and coming toward 
the house, he encountered Prince. Poor dog! 
There was no need to wonder whether or 
no he had remained faithful to the memory 
of his kind master. Of this his already 
gaunt body and moping demeanor gave 
unmistakable evidence. Mr. Middleton felt 
a clutch at his heart when, with a low whine. 
Prince looked up to him appealingly, with 
reproach, too, in his wistful eyes. 

“Poor fellow! You miss him too, don’t 
you,” he said, as he stooped and gave him 
an affectionate stroke upon the head, drawn 
into close sympathy with the noble animal 
by the bond of a common suffering. 

Thus it was, that Philip’s going away 
had broken up the hard, unyielding soil of 
Mr. Middleton’s heart. And the soil thus 
broken had been harrowed bj^ the prods of 
memory and association, making it receptive 
to the seed of the new doctrine that Langdon 
had preached and Philip had exemplified. 

So may be traced the genesis of the thoughts 
that were now arising in Mr. Middleton’s 
mind to contend against the dictates of a 

373 


A Captain of Industry 

cold business policy and the leadings of 
unfeeling self-interest. 

The new light that he now saw, though 
uncertainly lighting his future way, cast 
illuminating rays upon his past. In this 
better perspective the trend of his past life 
stood clearly revealed. Ever since the death 
of his first wife — ah! that parting of the ways 
in his life — ^that baptism of suffering from 
which he had arisen embittered and re el- 
lious, and showing none of the chastening 
uses of sorrow — ever since then, he saw his 
life shaped and controlled by a single ab- 
sorbing and sordid purpose — money-making. 
Sordid, because unrelieved by a recognition 
or consciousness of any ulterior purpose, and 
enlisting a devotion and concentration only 
matched and well exemplified by a green- 
table habitue. He saw how this absorbing 
pursuit after wealth, long settled into fixed 
habit, had so confined his thoughts and 
activities within the narrow groove of his 
business that his very personality had become 
swallowed up in it until his business became 
more than himself, its demands all-paramount 
and inexorable, and until, in his business 
relations, he had come to regard as unworthy 
of consideration all claims not having a 

374 


Mr, Middleton Treads the Wine-press 

strict business sanction. The one great affec- 
tion of his life, even — his love for his son — 
had not prevailed against the strength of 
his ruling passion. Of course, from a busi- 
ness point of view, Philip had been wrong, 
Mr. Middleton reflected. But this reflection 
could not obliterate the painful fact that 
his son was lost to him — irrevocably lost, 
he feared. For he now realized that his 
quarrel with Philip was not simply a dispute 
over the present situation at the mills, but 
represented the mortal conflict between two 
antagonistic ideas : the one, to which he 
had become so firmly wedded that, in the 
world of business, obligation was strictly 
limited to business *' ' ’ 



policy ; the other. 


that in business no less than in other relations 
in life, the claims of generous fraternity — 
of universal brotherhood, should receive rec- 
ognition. 

It was the clashing of these two ideas 
that had precipitated the second great catas- 
trophe of his life. It was not only his insist- 
ence upon his own views, but his total lack 
of appreciation of Philip’s attitude, that had, 
by its very expulsive force, driven Philip 
from him. And thus, as the climax of a 


375 


A Captain of Industry 

seeming process of degeneracy, he had ex- 
cluded from his life the one great influence 
that worked to rescue it from an utter worldli- 
ness. 

Would Philip come back.^ Should he ever 
see him again ? These were torturing ques- 
tions to Mr. Middleton. And strange, now, 
as he leaned toward the making of a con- 
cession to the workmen and a peaceable 
solution of the mill problem, Philip seemed 
to be drawn nearer to him, as if an atmos- 
phere had been generated congenial to Philip’s 
spirit, and through the mysterious processes 
of telepathy it had spanned the distance that 
divided them to encourage him with its 
influence. On the other hand, this sense 
of Philip’s nearness and influence appeared 
to leave him when his mind opened to the 
suggestions of Mr. Hartland and he allowed 
himself to fall under the baneful spell of 
that Worldly Wiseman and his sinister coun- 
sels. 

These two influences — his good and his 
evil angel, seemingly — strove with Mr. Middle- 
ton for the mastery over him. 

Moral struggles are the most severe of 
all struggles. They are the Gethsemanes 
of the soul, from which it emerges plumed 

376 


Mr, Middleton Treads the Wine-press 

for loftier flights, or with wings clipped in 
the conflict to be depressed to a lower flight 
than before. 

Letting his actions speak for him, we 
shall shortly see in what state of mind Mr. 
Middleton emerged from his long battle of 
the night. 


377 


CHAPTER XXX 


A Quarrel between Partners, which, 
However, is Settled in a Very 
Businesslike Way 

When a man looks forward in the morning 
to a piece of serious business that he must 
put through in the course of the day, it were 
well that he fortify himself with a good 
breakfast. The necessity or advisability of 
so doing would seem to be especially urgent 
where his customary hours of sleep have b^een 
encroached upon the night before. 

Mr. Middleton omitted this precautionary 
expedient on the morning after his long night 
vigil, for his stay at the breakfast table 
was limited to the time required for a hasty 
bite or two of toast and a swallow of coffee. 

He did, however, do the proper thing in 
connection with the particular piece of serious 
business that he had in contemplation, when 
he went right about it, making it the first 
thing in the order of business for the day. 

Before going out to the mills he called at 
the Commercial Bank to see Mr. Hartland. 

378 


A Quarrel between Partners 

He arrived at the bank before banking 
hours, but not too early to find Mr. Hartland 
in his private office. That gentleman was 
already deeply immersed in a mass of papers 
that strewed his desk. From these he looked 
up as Mr. Middleton entered. 

“Well, well!” he said, surprised to see 
who his caller was. “You’re around early, 
Mr. Middleton. Has the strike been de- 
clared 

“No — not yet,” Mr. Middleton replied, as 
he seated himself. “And I hope we sha’n’t 
have any strike.” 

“Oh, we’ll have a strike all right,” said 
Mr. Hartland, with a grim smile. “ We may 
as well prepare for it. The men feel pretty 
good over the court’s decision, I guess — 
think they’ve licked us, mebbe, and are 
lookin’ for us to give in to ’em. They’ll 
find out we’ve got ’em on the hip when they 
see how easily we’ll fill their places when 
they walk out.” 

“It will be still easier for us, though, if we 
can keep the old men and not be compelled 
to fill their places at all,” said Mr. Middleton, 
looking at Mr. Hartland narrowly. 

“ Oh, yes, of course. But they won’t 
stay under the reduced scale.” 

379 


A Captain of Industry 

“But they will stay if we raise the scale.’’ 

Mr. Hartland shot a quick, sharp look at 
Mr. Middleton. 

“Yes, but I hope you’re not thinking of 
doing that.” 

“Yes, I am,” said Mr. Middleton in a tone 
of decision. “ Mr. Langdon, the attorney for 
the men, called to see me last night, and we 
went over the matter pretty thoroughly. 
He assured me that the men would be reason- 
able in their demands if we were willing to 
concede something on our side.” 

“Oh, I don’t question for a minute that 
the men are ready to be reasonable,'^ said 
Mr. Hartland with sneering emphasis upon 
the last word. “But we don’t have to make 
any concessions to them; and if we don’t 
have to, it isn’t business for us to do it.” 

“Well, perhaps it isn’t strictly business,” 
returned Mr. Middleton, “but after thinking 
the matter over I have come to the con- 
clusion that it is the right thing to do.” 

Yes — Mr. Middleton used the word right. 
And he felt the strange sensation of having 
added an inch to his stature when he uttered it. 

“The right thing!” Mr. Hartland almost 
hissed out as the prospect of lessening divi- 
dends loomed large before him. “I thought 

380 


A Quarrel between Partners 


we had finished with all that sort of nonsense 
when we got rid of that fool son of yours.” 

Now, if Mr. Middleton had composed 
his nerves — unsteadied by a sleepless night — 
with a good breakfast, he might have been 
able to receive Mr. Hartland’s last remark 
in the business — if not Pickwickian — sense 
in which it was intended. As it was, he 
rose from his chair with a flushed face. 

“ When it comes to the matter of fool 
sons, Mr. Hartland, it isn’t safe for you to 
throw any stones.” 

“Ho, ho!” Mr. Hartland laughed, not at 
all disturbed by Mr. Middleton’s petulant 
insinuation. “Well, if my son should ever 
act as your son has acted, I shouldn’t take 
offense at anybody’s calling him a fool.” 

“Philip wasn’t a fool!” Mr. Middleton 
cried, heatedly, and feeling now a strange joy 
in defending his son. “I thought he was at 
the time. But I see now that we were the 
fools.” Here Mr. Middleton brought his 
clenched hand down hard upon Mr. Hartland’s 
desk, and so close to his face as to make 
him draw back involuntarily. “ We were 
fools to make such a heavy wage cut in the 
first place, and afterwards in not treating 
with the men in a conciliatory spirit. It 

381 


A Captain of Industry 

isn’t too late yet to repair the mischief — 
a good deal of it, anyway” — Mr. Middleton 
felt a sudden pang over the possible irrepara- 
bleness of a part of the mischief — “and I’m 
going to repair it if I can.” 

Mr. Hartland now rose, with face set to 
a menacing sternness. 

“Look here, Mr. Middleton. As manager 
of the company, you’ve got no right to play 
fast and loose with the stockholders in this 
way. I won’t stand for it; and I warn you 
now, that if you persist in this foolish and 
unbusinesslike course, there’ll be a new presi- 
dent and manager of the company after the 
next meeting of the stockholders.” 

Mr. Middleton’s face paled. 

“What do you mean.?^” he said, and yet 
not without a sickening suspicion of the 
truth. 

“ I mean that you no longer control a 
majority of the stock, and that I do.” 

Mr. Middleton sank into a chair and 
looked at Mr. Hartland in the dazed way of 
a man who has been stunned by a blow. 

It was true. 

When he closed his deal with Philip for 
his stock, and Philip had left the bank, an 
idea occurred to Mr. Hartland which caused 

382 


A Quarrel between Partners 


him to countermand the instructions he had 
given to the cashier as to the registry of 
the transfers and to enjoin secrecy upon that 
complaisant officer touching the entire trans- 
action. 

As Mr. Hartland had surmised, Mr. Middle- 
ton had not been apprised of Philip’s sale 
of his stock. Not finding any transfer upon 
* 'er he assumed that 



And, quite aside 


from the bearing of this stock upon the 
control of the company, he had of late found 
some comfort in the thought of this still 
remaining bond that bound his son to him. 

But upon the ownership of Philip’s stock 
might now rest the control of the company. 
For, about a year previously, Mr. Middleton, 
in an unguarded moment, and without, of 
course, any thought of the subsequent events, 
had, to accommodate a friend who was 
looking for a profitable investment, parted 
with a portion of his stock, leaving himself, 
however — with the natural support of Philip’s 
holdings — still with a majority of the stock 
behind him. 

But Mr. Boynton (Mr. Middleton’s trans- 
feree) feeling the stress of the times, had 
subsequently negotiated a loan at Mr. Hart- 


383 


A Captain of Industry 

land’s bank, and pledged his mill stock to 
secure it. Within the past week his note 
had matured, and not being able to meet 
it, or (for obvious reasons) to get a renewal 
of it from Mr. Hartland, he had, to avoid 
a foreclosure sale of the stock, sold it to Mr. 
Hartland at the latter’s not very extravagant 
valuation; although Mr. Hartland gave more 
for it than he would have paid had he not, 
likewise (but for a different reason) been 
anxious to avoid a foreclosure of the pledge, 
with the public sale of the stock as required 
by law. 

Having in the meantime managed to pick 
up a few other needed shares, Mr. Hartland 
now held a majority of the stock, and, in 
consequence, the power of control of the mill 
company. 

“Yes,” he said, as he reseated himself, with 
an inward chuckle over the effect of his 
disclosure upon Mr. Middleton, “ I’ve got 
Phil’s stock and Boynton’s stock, and a few 
more shares besides — enough to give me a 
majority, as you can figure out for yourself 
after I get these transfers registered. I didn’t 
register them at the time” — Mr. Hartland 
smiled significantly — “ for I didn’t want to get 
into any race with you for control. I wanted 

384 


A Quarrel between Partners 

control so as to be in a position to protect 
my stock. I see now that 1 was wise in doing 
what I did, although I had no idea that you 
and I would ever get at serious loggerheads 
over a question of management.” 

Mr. Hartland here opened a drawer of his 
desk and drew forth a bundle of papers. 

“ Here are the stock certificates, if you 
would like to see them. I was going to have 
the transfers registered to-day.” 

Mr. Middleton took the papers, and hastily 
and mechanically ran through them, only 
stopping to let his eye rest for a moment 
with love-hungered intentness upon his son’s 
well-known signature. 

He tossed them back to Mr. Hartland, 
but said nothing. 

‘‘Of course, this needn’t make any differ- 
ence in the mill affairs,” said Mr. Hartland, 
in an exasperating tone of reassurance. “ I’m 
perfectly satisfied with your management of 
the business — ^have been, anyway, until now. 
Just drop this nonsense about raising the 
scale, and I’ll be content to leave the manage- 
ment in your hands as heretofore.” 

Gall and wormwood! 

Had it come to this ? Control of the mill 
company that he had held from the time of 

385 


A Captain of Industry 

its organization wrested from him! And not 
now distributed among a number of stock- 
holders, but centered m one man, and that 
man Mr. Hartland. A man for whom, in 
his now changed state of feeling, he felt a 
strange aversion, not unmixed with anger 
and resentment, as he realized that this man 
had been the means — ^working secretly — to 
rob him of control, to sever Philip’s connection 
with the company, and to facilitate his 
departure from home. 

Was he, then, who had heretofore con- 
ducted the company with a sense of pro- 
prietorship free from the dictation of a 
superior, and with a becoming pride in its 
growth and expansion — was he henceforth 
to take orders from another — from this man ? 
to take his suggestions as to the mill manage- 
ment not simply as suggestions to abide his 
own discretion, but as mandates to be obeyed ? 

The thought of all this was intolerable to 
Mr. Middleton. 

“A fine piece of work, this,” he said sar- 
castically, as he rose from his chair and 
paced the floor. “A very fine piece of work. 
But you’ve made one serious miscalcula- 
tion, I’m afraid, Mr. Hartland. There’s one 
chicken — or shall I say goose — ^that you’ve 

386 


A Quarrel between Partners 


counted that won’t hatch out. If you think 
that by getting control of the company you 
thereby get control of me you’re very much 
mistaken. You can’t move me around like 
a pawn on a chess-board. I’ve been in 
control of the company too long to play 
second fiddle in its management now.” 

“Oh, I’m not asking you to play second 
fiddle,” said Mr. Hartland testily. “All I 
want is for you to recognize my rights as 
owner of a maiority of the stock.” 

“Well, I think I know what that means,” 
Mr. Middleton rejoined, and then, the state 
of his nerves rushing him into a precipitous 
expression of his feelings, he turned upon Mr. 
Hartland savagely : 

“ Look here, Hartland ! The company isn’t 
big enough to hold us both. One of us will 
have to get out. What do you want for your 
stock 

“I don’t care to sell,” replied Mr. Hartland 
shortly. 

“Then make me an offer for mine!” Mr. 
Middleton exclaimed, with a wild reckless- 
ness that exposed a broadside to Mr. Hart- 
land’s coolness and cunning. 

Mr. Hartland reflected. 

Here was a chance for a stupendous specu- 

387 


A Captain of Industry 

lation. In Mr. Middleton’s present mood 
he could get his stock almost at his own 
figures. With him out of the way he would 
have full swing at the mills. He could take 
advantage of the impending strike to crush 
the union, get rid of the turbulent spirits 
among the men, maintain the reduced wage 
scale, and, with returning prosperous business 
conditions, reap the enormous profits that 
would ensue to him as the owner of virtually 
all the stock. 

The prospect presented glittering possibili- 
ties to Mr. Hartland’s covetous eyes. And 
the glitter of these possibilities blinded him 
to other contingencies of a more sombre hue. 

As Mr. Hartland’s business methods have 
already received sufficient exemplification in 
previous chapters, it will not be necessary 
to detail the tortuous tactics which he now 
adopted in bargaining with Mr. Middleton. 
Suffice it to say, that he closed with him for 
his stock, and in the course of that day and 
the next turned over to him an amount of 
cash, real estate and securities that, even at 
the exceedingly low valuation that was placed 
upon Mr. Middleton’s holdings, left Mr. 
Hartland with the bulk of his fortune tied up 
in mill stock. 


388 


A Quarrel between Partners 


And so, in the sequence of events in this 
chronicle, it is to be related that Mr. Middle- 
ton, having disposed of his stock in the 
Ellerton Iron & Steel Works, resigned from 
the presidency and directorate of the com- 
pany, and Mr. Hartland reigned in his stead. 


389 


CHAPTER XXXI 
A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

Great was the surprise in Ellerton over 
Mr. Middleton’s retirement from the steel 
company with which he had been for years 
so closely identified. There was much con- 
coniecture as to its cause, and more and 
livelier conjecture as to its probable effect 
upon the future fortunes of Ellerton’s chief 
industry. 

Its immediate effect was to dash the hopes 
of a settlement that had been raised by 
Langdon’s conference with Mr. Middleton. 

“ I’m out of it now — ^you’ll have to see Mr. 
Hartland,” was Mr. Middleton’s laconic greet- 
ing to Langdon, whom he met on the street 
the day after the transfer of his holdings to 
Mr. Hartland. 

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you any en- 
couragement in that quarter,” he added, with 
a meaning smile. “I guess it’s up to the 
men now either to submit to the reduced 
scale or quit.” 

So it proved. 


390 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

Langdon did see Mr. Hartland, but only 
to get an emphatic and unequivocal con- 
firmation of Mr. Middleton’s surmise. 

In some chagrin over the failure of his 
negotiation, the success of which had seemed 
so promising, Langdon reported the situation 
to the strike committee. 

The committee, under its authority from 
the union, straightway posted a notice calling 
out the men. 

Fires were accordingly drawn in the mills, 
and the men walked out. 

The strike was on. 

And now Mr. Hartland had an opportunity 
to show his ability as a mill manager. 

In assuming the presidency of the steel 
company he assumed also its active manage- 
ment. Mr. Cosgrove was, it is true, advanced 
to the position of general manager; but no 
one more than that gentleman himself realized 
the purely nominal character of the position, 
and that his duties therein would be wholly 
ministerial. 

Mr. Hartland, in short, now dominated 
the steel company in like manner as he did 
the Commercial Bank, and divided his time 
between the bank and the mills. 

As the company had no very pressing 

391 


A Captain of Industry 

contracts on hand, he determined to let the 
mills remain shut down for a couple of weeks 
before attempting to man them with a new 
force. 

This, Mr. Hartland considered to be a 
shrewd move, and he chuckled to himself 
over the saving it effected in the outlay for 
operating expenses. 

Well, there are many men who act on the 
theory that every retrenchment is a gain ; 
men whose penny-wiseness and pound-foolish- 
ness impel them to save where they should 
spend; who have eyes and ears for the trickling 
spigot, but not for the gurgling escape at the 
bung-hole. Your bucolic statesman, for ex- 
amjde, has frequently no higher conception 
of his duty to his constituents than that of 
swishing the legislative pruning-hook through 
appropriations and salary lists. Nor has the 
aforesaid statesman any more courteous des- 
ignation for an enactment increasing official 
emolument than that of “Salary Grab.” 
But soft, now! He may be partly right. 
In a blind sort of way he may be stumbling 
upon a truth that has long been suspected 
in much more intelligent and discriminating 
quarters, viz., that the average legislator — 
which would, perhaps, be inclusive of our 

392 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

bucolic friend himself — is, on the rigid basis 
of a quid pro quo, but a biennial pensioner 
upon the bounty of the State. 

Nevertheless, let the proverb stand: “There 
is that scattereth and yet increaseth; and 
there is that withholdeth more than is meet, 
but it tendeth to poverty.” 

We have, too, the profane proverb that 
whom the gods would destroy they first make 
mad. 

If Mr. Hartland, in his actions thus far, 
betrayed some signs of that mental aberra- 
tion which goes before destruction, his next 
important step certainly stopped little short 
of rank lunacy. 

He let Superintendent Mitchell go ! 

When it is remembered what manner of 
man Mitchell was — his thorough knowledge 
of the iron business in general, and of the 
business of the Ellerton mills in particular — 
it would seem as if he should have been the 
man, of all others connected with the mills, 
that Mr. Hartland, with so much at stake, 
would grapple to himself with hoops of steel. 
But no; Mitchell had too high an opinion 
of the value of his services. At least so Mr. 
Hartland thought. In the face of a general 
reduction in wages and salaries Mitchell had 

393 


A Captain of Indnstry 

the hardihood and obstinacy to insist on a 
renewal of his annual contract, then expiring, 
at the same salary he had been receiving, 
thinking he had made a sufficient concession 
to the depressed business conditions when 
he waived the usual increase that had there- 
tofore been awarded to him on the renewal 
of his contract. 

But Mr. Hartland, having in view a com- 
petent man — as he thought — to take Mitchell’s 
place, held out for a considerable reduction 
m his salary. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt ye can get a man to 
take me place,” said Mitchell, when Mr. 
Hartland suggested this to him; “an’ mebbe 
he’ll be able to fill me place, an’ mebbe he 
won’t. Annyways, as ye don’t seem to moind 
tryin’ a new man, I guess I’ll let yez.” 

And he did. 

There were others, however, who were 
more appreciative of the value of Mitchell’s 
services. Prominent among these was Mr. 
Middleton. And it was largely through his 
strong backing that Mitchell shortly after- 
wards left Ellerton to assume a responsible 
position in a Pittsburgh mill. 

The man Mr. Hartland selected to succeed 
Mitchell as mill superintendent was a certain 

394 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

Mr. Billings, one of the many composing the 
flotsam and jetsam of industrial wreckage 
elsewhere that had during the past month 
or two drifted into Ellerton. 

To arrive at a true estimate of Mr. Billings 
a considerable discount would have to be 
made from that gentleman’s own rather 
extravagant estimate of himself. But it is 
only fair to state that he was, in truth, a 
man of some parts, and had had a quite 
varied and extended experience in the rolling- 
mill business. Indeed, in view of his un- 
doubted ability and experience the wonder 
might well arise why he had not succeeded 
in making better provision for himself than 
he appeared to nave done; why his mill 
knowledge, skill and experience should not 
have served to settle him in a position of 
some permanence rather than leave him to an 
uncertain and precarious itinerancy. 

One given to physiognomic reading and to 
basing much thereupon would probably have 
traced some connection between Billings’s 
infirm clutch upon worldly position and the 
red, bulbous nose that formed the most 
distinguishing feature of his face. 

In spite of his rather unprepossessing 
appearance, however, Mr. Billings succeeded 

395 


A Captain of Industry 

in convincing Mr. Hartland that he was the 
man for Mitchell’s place. Not without con- 
siderable weight, doubtless, in bringing Mr. 
Hartland to this conclusion was the fact that 
he secured Billings’s services at about one 
half the salary Mitchell had been receiving. 

Over this considerable saving Mr. Hartland 
indulged in another quiet chuckle to himself. 

With the assistance of this worthy lieu- 
tenant, Mr. Hartland proceeded to re-man 
the mills. As he had surmised, this was not 
at all a difficult thing to do. Besides the 
multitude of new men that had poured into 
Ellerton in anticipation of the strike, and 
who were clamorous for employment — many 
of them, too, not without some mill experience 
— ^there were not a few of the old men who, 
chilled by the nipping frost of the first pay- 
day passed without pay, and with whom 
the prospect of work and pay proved more 
alluring than the seemingly barren one of 
loyalty to the union, threw away their union 
buttons and applied for reinstatement. They 
were compelled to give up all union affilia- 
tions; for the mill, as Mr. Hartland impressed 
upon Mr. Billings, was thenceforth to be a 
non-union mill, and any attempt at organiz- 
ing a union among the mill employees in 

396 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

the future was to be followed bj^ the imme- 
diate discharge of those engaged in it. 

With a complement of mill hands secured, 
the company now resumed operations in 
all departments. Considerable work had ac- 
cumulated during the shut-down, requiring 
the working of the mills to their full capacity. 
So that now all was rush and bustle about 
the mills; and as Mr. Hartland on his daily 
trips out to the mills beheld their fire-and- 
smoke-belching chimneys, and his ears were 
assailed by the continuous din into which 
their manifold clangors were merged, he had 
dreams of enormous wealth, and gave himself 
many a metaphoric slap on the back over 
his great shrewdness and foresight in getting 
control of the company and possessing him- 
self of the bulk of its stock. 

It was not long, however, that he was 
left to these pleasant dreams undisturbed. 
The belching chimneys and clangorous din 
of the mills were as little indicative of their 
industrial soundness as the hectic flush of 
the fever patient is of returning health. 

Reversing all precedent, the new brooms 
in the mills were not sweeping very clean. 
Especially was this true with the rollers, 
heaters and puddlers, whose work required 
397 


A Captain of Industry 

for its proper doing more than ordinary 
skill and experience. Only a few of the new 
men possessed this necessary skill and experi- 
ence; and the result was that there was much 
waste of time and material, and much that 
was unsatisfactory in the completed product 
that was shipped out. 

It was with a long face that Billings reported 
this condition of things to Mr. Hartland, and 
impressed upon him the urgent necessity 
of getting a considerable number of skilled 
men for the more important positions in the 
mills. Could not the strike be in some way 
broken, he suggested, so that they could 
take their pick from among the old men.?^ 
Or was it not possible that the needed work- 
men of experience could by proper (he meant 
improper, of course,) inducements be influ- 
enced to come back to work in spite of their 
union pledges ? 

Mr. Hartland would see what could be done. 
Encouraging Billings to use his best efforts 
with his present material, he cast about for 
the means to effectuate his suggestions, with- 
out, of course, any thought of adopting the 
simple and most natural one of treating 
with the union. 

Men with whom the wiles of cunning and 
398 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

intrigue have become habitual, whose feet 
have long walked the ways that are indirect 
and sinuous, come in time, seemingly, to 
lose all sense of directness. They will in- 
evitably, in seeking their ends, turn to the 
most tortuous courses, although to the ordinary 
eye the way lies straight and clear. Beyond 
doubt, they do often display remarkable 
acumen in laying out and following their 
covert and labyrinthine processes. Nor are 
they less shrewd, perhaps, in the selection 
of their human tools for furthering their ends. 
By a kind of instinct they seem to fall upon 
the men who can be most useful to them. 

In this last matter, however, it is some- 
times hard to tell upon which side the selective 
or attractive force is the more powerfully 
exercised ; whether the magnet draws the 
iron, or the reverse. At any rate, like attracts 
like. They come together. 

Without stopping to determine the rela- 
tively unimportant matter as to whether 
Mr. Hartland or Mr. Isaac Battles, the 
business agent of the union, made the first 
advances, let it be stated that shortly after 
Billings’s report on the unfavorable condi- 
tions in the mills, Mr. Hartland and Mr. 
Battles were closeted together in secret con- 
899 


A Captain of Industry 

ference. After this conference— and so soon 
thereafter as to raise a most plausible pre- 
sumption that it was in consequence of it — 
we find Mr. Battles in the most discouraging 
state of mind as to the ultimate success of the 
strike, and with a corresponding decidedly 
affirmative leaning on the wisdom of declaring 
it off. So strong, indeed, were his con- 
victions on the subject, and so necessary to 
the welfare of the men did he deem the 
adoption of his views to be, that he did not 
selfishly keep these views to himself, but 
with commendable zeal and much protesta- 
tion of disinterestedness he industriously dis- 
seminated them among the workmen, and 
also stood a public sponsor for them in an 
extended speech to the union at one of its 
meetings. 

To bring about this sudden change of 
front on the part of one who had before been 
so blatant in his pro-strike attitude, Mr. 
Hartland must surely have displayed a more 
than ordinary power of argument and per- 
suasiveness. But before giving him credit 
for this, however, some consideration should 
be given to a more plausible hypothesis. 
Considering the manner of man that Mr. 
Hartland was, and likewise the manner of 
400 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

man with whom he was dealing, it is not at 
all unlikely that instead of depending upon 
cold argumentative processes, Mr. Hartland 
fell back upon the well recognized truth that 
“Money talks”; and so, in place of can- 
vassing with Mr. Battles the broad situation 
of labor supply and demand, wages, markets, 
and other economic propositions, he reduced 
the conference — with the entire acquiescence 
of Mr. Battles himself — to the simple gist 
of what he was to give and Mr. Battles was 
to do. 

At any rate, Mr. Battles’s present attitude 
created a very strong suspicion among the 
men that he had been bought, and through 
the close espionage that was now put upon 
his goings out and comings in, which dis- 
closed repeated conferences with Mr. Hart- 
land and still )unced efforts to 



draw various 


men away from 


their union allegiance, suspicion of his venality 
was raised to absolute certainty. 

When, therefore, at the next meeting of 
the union, Mr. Battles again spoke in favor 
of an abandonment of the strike, he was 
repeatedljT^ interrupted by derisive catcalls 
from various parts of the hall, as well as by 
a number of very embarrassing questions 


401 


A Captain of Industry 

that were hurled at him, causing him finally 
to sit down in considerable confusion. It 
remained for Aaron Gilks, however, to voice 
the general feeling in the matter. Narrow 
and fanatical though Gilks was, he was, 
beyond question, incorruptible — he could not 
be bought. Nor had he palliation or excuse 
for the vice of venality in others. Convinced 
of Battles’s treachery, he did not allow his 
previous close association with him to trammel 
the free expression of the opinion he now 
held of him. 

Had there been any doubt about Battles’s 
double-dealing, it must have been removed 
by the abject look of self-confessed guilt with 
which, without waiting to defend himself, he 
slunk out of the room under the merciless 
scourge of Gilks’s invective. 

This narrative will not concern itself with 
the fortunes of Mr. Isaac H. Battles further 
than to state that he made a between-two- 
days disappearance from Ellerton. If cre- 
dence is to be given to a persistent rumor 
at the time, this sudden departure was not 
wholly voluntary; but that late in the night 
he had been inveigled from his house by a 
number of the strikers who had constituted 
themselves a committee of viqilantes, taken 

402 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

to the outskirts of the city and there, after 
suffering a quick metamorphosis into the 
similitude of a feathered biped, was let go, 
with the warning that worse would befall 
him if he ever appeared in Ellerton again. 

Certain it is that Mr. Battles never came 
back. He closed up his affairs in Ellerton 
by proxy, leaving naught behind him except 
(and this he could not take away) an unsavory 
memory. 

It is quite probable, however, that Mr. 
Battles found a market for his peculiar 
talents elsewhere. Such a thing will not 
appear improbable until such time as there 
shall be a dearth of venal business agents — 
walking delegates — who find unionism a fruit- 
ful field for selfish exploitation; whose rule 
of action is one of very simple terms: their 
pockets first, last and all the time; and with 
whom strikes are times of harvest, to be 
fomented rather than prevented, that in the 
ensuing wreckage they may gather the greater 
spoil. 

Deprived of the valuable services of Mr. 
Battles in his efforts to get needed help from 
among the strikers, Mr. Hartland was fain 
to make shift with his present mill force. 
For with the exceptions already noted, and 

403 


A Captain of Industry 

these not among the skilled men, the strikers 
stood firm. 

A man like Mitchell might have succeeded 
in welding the conglomerate labor material 
in the mills into a homogeneous and effective 
working force. But such a thing appeared 
to be quite beyond the capacity of Mr. Billings. 
The latter might, indeed, have made better 
progress in this direction had he not from 
time to time given way to that lamentable 
human weakness which had set its unmis- 
takable seal upon his face. His bibulous 
propensity not only interfered with his own 
work of supervision (there were days when 
he failed to put in an appearance at the mills 
at all), but, tyrannical with the workmen 
when under the influence of liquor, he for- 
feited that respect and good-will on their 
part which is all-essential to thorough disci- 
pline. 

Mr. Hartland had other troubles besides a 
disorganized labor force. News of the change 
of management, the strike and the shut- 
down, had gone abroad in the business world, 
and, in the immediate circle of the company’s 
business connections, had wrought a reeling 
of uneasiness and want of confidence. This 
was shown in a marked falling off in orders, 

404 


A Round Peg in a Square Hole 

and in an urgent pressing of the company 
on its bills payable. Moreover, business 
conditions generally, instead of improving, 
grew worse and worse. Quite frequently in 
place of checks and drafts in payment of 
bills receivable, the company received notices 
from assignees and receivers to file its claim 
in insolvency proceedings. 

As time went on, with no lessening, but 
with aggravation, rather, of the adverse con- 
ditions under which the company was labor- 
ing, it became apparent to Mr. Hartland 
that it would soon not be simply a question 
of paying dividends, but the far more serious 
one of meeting operating expenses. 

What was to be done ? 

Not this, certainly, that Mr. Hartland did 
do. Yet, in what he did he was not strikingly 
original. In using the funds of his bank to 
sustain the tottering fortunes of the mill 
company he but moved in the steps of many 
other enterprising and not altogether scrupu- 
lous bankers, who, finding the regular and 
conservative banking processes too slow for 
their aspiring financial genius, use their banks 
as bases of supply for all kinds of speculative 
and hazardous enterprises. 

Sometimes they are successful. Mr. Hart- 

405 


A Captain of Industry 

land confidently expected to be. In supply- 
ing the company’s necessities with the bank’s 
money he thought to bridge the period of 
business depression for the mill company 
without any eventual crippling of the bank’s 
resources. 

He might have succeeded had not his cal- 
culations been sadly upset by an entirely 
unlooked-for event; an event, indeed, so 
paralyzing and destructive in its immediate 
effects, and so disastrous in its ultimate 
consequences, as to bring down Mr. Hart- 
land’s whole financial fabric like a house of 
cards. 


406 


CHAPTER XXXII 


The Meeting in the Park, 

AND WHAT Followed 

Nature provides her own correctives. Sel- 
dom are they pleasant; always effective. 
See, now: The sky be clear blue from 
horizon to zenith, unnecked by cloud or 
bird. Drag a carcass into the field. You 
shall wait but a few minutes ere your eye, 
if it be keen, will desc^, far off and up in 
the limitless blue, the tiniest speck of black. 
As you hold your eye upon this speck you 
see it wax upon your sight. Onward, and 
ever nearer it comes, moving with a swift, 
inevitable and ominous directness. As your 
eye now sweeps the heavens, you see the blue 
sky dappled with spots of black. These, 
too, enlarge as you gaze, and move with a 
like steady and certain directness toward 
a common center. Not long are you left to 
guess what they are. For now the vanguard 
is overhead. In sweeping, concentric and 
ever lowering circles, with flapping wings 
and raucous cry, down, down they come 

407 


A Captain of Industry 

and fall upon the carcass in the field. Down, 
and down again come others, until the noisome 
carrion is covered by their black and sinister 
forms. 

The ravenous scavengers of the air — ^the 
carrion vultures! Yes, and how they peck 
and pull and tear, and gorge themselves, 
until, swollen with greedy fullness, they topple 
over under their own gluttonous weight. 
But the carcass is picked to the bones, and 
naught is left of it to putrefy and to poison 
the air. 

Human vultures there are also that perhaps 
have their place and purpose in the social 
economy. They flock about the social plague 
spots, the centers of disorder and of industrial 
disturbance, and ghoulishly batten upon their 
baleful putridities. 

Many of these human vultures flocked 
into Ellerton upon news of the strike. Search 
for work was their excuse for coming, the 
pretext under which their real and predatory 
purposes were concealed. They looked to 
the disorder, confusion and license which 
labor strikes always entail, to cloak their 
lawlessness, and to the striking mill men 
to be their convenient scapegoats. 

The strikers themselves were not altogether 

408 


The Meeting in the Park 


blameless in their deportment. There may 
have been, in the history of labor troubles, 
such a thing as a peaceful strike. But if 
so, it has failed of sufficient publicity to 
make such a designation seem other than 
a contradiction in terms. A large body of 
workmen smarting under a sense of injustice, 
and emboldened and inspirited by their own 
numbers, are not likely to rest in passive 
acquiescence when their places of employ- 
ment are usurped by others. Nor is it sur- 
prising that among them should be found 
some incapable of restraining their inflamed 
passions from violent outlet. 

The Ellerton strike presented the usual 
incidents of belligerency on the part of the 
strikers. Pickets were kept ' ’ in the 



vicinity of the mills, whose 


was to 


“labor” with the new workmen to induce 
them to quit work and ally themselves with 
the union. Not always was this duty per- 
formed in a come-let-us-reason-together spirit. 
Intimidation, threats and opprobrious epithets 
often took the place of argument, and, in 
those cases where fierce resentment on the 
one side was matched by truculence on the 
other, heated altercations not infrequently 
ended in fistic encounters, which, while perhaps 


409 


A Captain of Industry 

determining the relative physical prowess of 
the contending parties, were ill adapted to 
bringing them into more amicable relations. 

It was against the old workmen, however, 
who had renounced their union allegiance 
and returned to work, that the animosity 
of the strikers was the most fiercely directed. 
“Traitors,” “scabs,” and even worse names 
than these, greeted them in going to 
and coming from work, or when they 
ventured abroad upon the streets after 
working hours. Several were brutally as- 
saulted. A number, under pressure of the 
persistent persecution, finally left the city 
to seek work elsewhere, and those who 
remained sought to avoid such persecution 
by taking roundabout ways to and from 
work and keeping closely at home when not 
working. 

As time passed, and the prospect of the 
strikers winning their fight grew more and 
more remote, they became more aggressive 
and persistent in their interference with and 
persecution of the mill workers. Not even 
the injunctional order against such inter- 
ference, which the company obtained upon 
petition to the court, deterred some of the 
boldest and most venturesome spirits among 

410 


The Meeting in the Park 

them. Arrested and convicted of contempt 
of court, they went to jail glorying in their 
supposed martyrdom. 

But persecution of the mill workers was 
not all that the strikers were held respons- 
ible for. The thefts, robberies, assaults, 
burglaries, incendiarisms, and other acts of 
lawlessness, now almost of daily and nightly 
occurrence, and which were largely, if not 
wholly, the work of the lawless, criminal 
element — ^the human vultures — that infested 
the city, were all laid at the door of the 
strikers, and turned public sentiment against 
them. 

Strenuous measures were now taken by 
the city and county authorities to check this 
lawlessness and restore order. The sheriff 
took upon himself the heaviest burden of 
responsibility. Hastily swearing in and arm- 
ing a large number of special deputies, he 
distributed them in various parts of the city, 
and at the particular instance of Mr. Hartland 
detailed a squad of them to duty in the 
vicinity of the mills. 

In defiance of police and deputies, however, 
the strikers continued their work of “labor- 
ing” with the mill workmen. In protecting 
the latter from interference the duputy sher- 

411 


A Captain of Industry 

iffs, naturally enough, aroused the animosity 
of the strikers, especially by the numerous 
arrests they made. Physical as well as wordy 
encounters became frequent. The tension of 
feeling increased. Finally came the climax, 
when the deputies, escorting a number of 
workmen from the mills, encountered several 
dozen of the strikers. Halting, they com- 
manded the strikers to disperse. Jeers and 
gibes and menacing gestures greeted the 
command. The deputies opened fire, firing 
— as they later testified — over the heads of 
the strikers. Whether from accident due 
to careless handling of weapons, or from 
vindictive intent on the part of some of the 
deputies, two of the strikers dropped to their 
death. 

Great was the excitement that this tragic 
event aroused in the city, especially among 
the strikers. The same night, Aaron Gilks 
and a half dozen others of the most intrepid 
spirits among the strikers held a secret 
meeting. As a result of this meeting the 
following handbill was the next day widely 
circulated and posted in various parts of 
the city; 


412 


The Meeting in the Park 
UNION WORKERS! 

TAKE NOTICE! 

There will be a 
GREAT MASS MEETING!! 

To-night, at 8 o’clock, at 
Hayden’s Park, 

To denounce the atrocious murder of 
two of our brothers yesterday. Come 
'prepared to protect yourselves! 

Committee. 

Hayden’s Park was an enclosure of some 
half-dozen acres on the outskirts of the town. 
It could have been called a park only by 
courtesy, for it showed nothing of the land- 
scape gardener’s art, nor any eye-delighting 
touches of nature’s beautifying hand. A 
number of straggling scrub-oak trees afforded 
a meager shade to picnickers in which to 
spread their luncheons. Here and there were 
large patches of ground that were hard and 
bare from much romping of children. There 
were a number of amusement devices: swings, 

413 


A Captain of Industry 

hanging rings, and parallel and horizontal 
bars. Upon the latter boys were wont to 
vie with one another over those venturesome 
feats, “chinning the pole,” “little drop” and 
“big drop,” and “skinning the cat.” Oc- 
casionally they would gladly give way to 
an experienced turner, and stand in open- 
mouthed admiration and wonder while he 
went through a set of bewildering gyrations, 
turnings and giant-swings that were well 
fitted to leave upon the reflective mind a 
strong impression of a simian ancestry. 

There was also a dancing-platform, which 
at picnic parties never lacked its capering 
feet to keep a hap-hazard time to the indif- 
ferent music. 

Flanking one side of the park was that 
usual abomination and barbarism in parks — 
a menagerie, with its varied collection of 
animals cooped up in small box cages and 
diffusing the acrid and pestilential atmosphere 
of captivity. Back and forth they paced in 
their narrow prisons, looking out appealingly 
upon the gaping and unpitying crowd, and 
impressing upon the receptive minds of the 
children who gazed curiously at them a 
lesson of cruelty which they would not be 
slow to apply. 


414 


The Meeting in the Park 

In the center of the park stood a band- 
stand, where on special occasions such as 
Memorial Day and the Fourth of July the 
local brass band rendered ear-piercing airs, 
and wordy orators bellowed forth their 
patriotic platitudes. 

Around this band-stand a huge crowd 
gathered for the announced meeting. The 
strikers came in full force, as did the other 
unemployed in the city. Many came im- 
pelled by curiosity and that human craving 
for excitement which such an occasion was 
likely to gratify. 

Of course, the disreputable and criminal 
element was fully represented, and showed 
itself in the evil-looking faces that here and 
there leered from the crowd. 

The promoters of the meeting had evidently 
not consulted the almanac. Had they done 
so they would have noted the forecast of a 
moonlight night, and so might have dispensed 
with the smoking, wind-flaring, gasoline torches 
that were fastened against the railing on both 
sides of the stand. 

Upon the outskirts of the crowd a number 
of special deputy sheriffs and blue-coated 
policemen paced back and forth, directing 
their attention not so much to the men in 
415 


A Captain of Industry 

the crowd as to the men on the platform. 
Here were seated Aaron Gilks and his half- 
dozen companions of the secret meeting of 
the night before. There, too, sat John Waters, 
with sad and troubled face. One of the 
handbills had been left at his house during 
the day, and in the hope of saying or doing 
something to prevent the trouble that was 
evidently brewing he had with some mis- 
givings gone to the park, and, under solicita- 
tion, had taken a seat on the platform. 

On the stand sat also Tom Ten wick. Tom, 
however, had taken a seat there entirely of 
his own motion, without solicitation. He 
had spent the afternoon in distributing the 
large bundle of handbills Gilks had given 
him, and by reason of that fact, doubtless, 
felt quite justified in assuming a position 
of prominence at the meeting. Tom had 
the most vague notion of what the meeting 
had been called for, and as little apprehension 
of the real gravity of the situation. Never- 
theless, in his long frock coat and with a new 
and formidable necktie that had worked its 
way well up on his collar, he sat with a stiff 
uprightness and looked out upon the crowd 
with the dignified seriousness fitting the 
prominence of his position. 

416 


The Meeting in the Park 

Next to Aaron Gilks sat a short, thick- 
set, bushy-whiskered man whose personal 
appearance would have been considerably 
improved by the attention of a hair-dresser. 
But Hermann Schultz — ^this was the man’s 
name — had as little use for hair-dressers 
as he had for current social and political 
opinion. He was a socialist of a very pro- 
nounced type — an anarchist, many called 
him; an appellation he in no wise resented, 
and for which his social and political views 
afforded suflScient excuse. Of German birth 
and rearing, he had early become indoc- 
trinated with the pessimism of German social- 
ism. This pessimism had been nowise soft- 
ened by added years nor by his transplanta- 
tion to American soil. Rather had it been 
strengthened and confirmed ; in great measure, 
doubtless, by the vicissitudes and hardships 
he had undergone. He provided a somewhat 
precarious support for a large family by 
job printing and from the meager avails of 
a bi-weekly issue of four pages called ‘‘The 
Worker,” which had a limited circulation 
among the working people. 

It was at Schultz’s shop that the hand- 
bills announcing the park meeting had been 
printed, and it was Schultz himself that Gilks 

417 


A Captain of Industry 

had made haste to secure for the principal 
speech of the evening. 

He was quite the man for the occasion. 
When the meeting was called to order and he 
was introduced, he plunged at once into one of 
his most vitriolic harangues. He denounced 
the police and special deputies as hired mur- 
derers, capitalistic bloodhounds, who should 
be made to feel the scorpion lash of outraged 
labor. The voice of their brothers’ blood 
cried out to them from the ground for venge- 
ance! Would they heed it, or would they 
stand like stocks and stones and see more 
of their number shot down like dogs by these 
cowardly assassins of the law.? What had 
these men done that they should deserve 
death? They had only been trying to get 
back what they had been robbed of. The 
mistake they made was in going unarmed. 
If laborers, the producers of the world’s 
wealth, would emancipate themselves from 
the heartless wage-slavery that was crushing 
them they must take the law into their own 
hands. Under the existing state of society 
the law was but machinery for the protection 
of capital and the oppression of labor. It 
protected the laborer only so long as he was 
willing to work for starvation wages, but 

418 


The Meeting in the Park 

when he rebelled against the capitalistic 
extortion that was reducing him to the level 
of a serf, it marshalled its minions, the police 
and deputy sheriffs, to ruthlessly shoot him 
down. In the eyes of the law and its officers 
property was a more sacred thing than life. 
The right of property had been exalted into 
a kind of Divine right. Instead of the Divine 
right of Kings, there was now the Divine 
right of Things. 

“Down with this infernal fetish, the Right 
of Property!” Schultz cried savagely as he 
paced back and forth upon the platform, 
gesticulating wildly. “The institution of 
private property is the cause of all the in- 
equalities of society, its classes, its unjust 
privileges, and all the want and misery of the 
w^orld. It enables the holders of property 
to live upon the labor product of the property- 
less, and supports a horde of parasitic naiddle- 
men, profitmongers and financial thimble- 
riggers who live by fleecing the people and 
who accumulate millions at ^ the expense of 
those who toil. This iniquitous institution 
— ^this grand conspiracy against the workers 
of the world — is maintained and upheld by 
law, and behind the law stands the govern- 
ment soldiery. If workingmen would achieve 

419 


A Captain of Industry 

their liberation from this economic bondage 
they must meet force with force. Every 
worker should provide himself with a revolver 
and a rifle — ^yes, and learn how to make and 
use dynamite! Peaceful methods are useless. 
The capitalistic brigands who are waxing 
fat upon the substance of the people will 
be deaf as adders to all argument, words and 
peaceful appeals. The gun and dynamite are 
the only arguments they will understand, and 
the only ones that will be effective against 
them.” 

For upwards of an hour Schultz held forth 
in this bitter strain of invective and abuse, 
the great crowd showing its appreciation by 
frequent and unrestrained applause, which 
was redoubled and long continued when he 
sat down. 

Three of the strike leaders who were 
seated on the platform followed Schultz, in 
turn, and were equally bitter in their denuncia- 
tion of the killing of the two strikers. They 
directed their attention particularly, how- 
ever, to the “scabs” who had taken the 
places of the union men in the mills. Upon 
these “cowardly receivers of stolen goods” 
they rained down their vituperation and 
abuse, and asked if the time had not come 

420 


The Meeting in the Park 


to use other and more effectual measures 
against them than mere words and entreaties. 

John Waters had sat an unwilling and 
grieved listener during Schultz’s harangue, 
and more so under the hot-headed ranting 
of those who followed him, for he saw the 
unmistakable drift that was setting towards 
violence. Willingly would he have left the 
platform and the meeting, but a compelling 
sense of a duty that he must perform chained 
him to his seat. He felt that a voice must 
be raised against the suicidal madness that 
was taking possession of both speakers and 
hearers. That voice, evidently, must be his 
own. 

Reluctantly, yet determinedly, he arose 
of his own motion, and faced the noisy and 
turbulent crowd that was still shouting and 
gesticulating its approval of the inflammatory 
tirade of the fourth speaker, who had just 
taken his seat. 

Waters pleaded earnestly for peace and 
observance of the law. He in no way pal- 
liated the killing of the two union men. If 
this was intenti " done, he said, it was 



not go unpunished. 


a crime that 


Whatever censure their actions may have 
merited the men surely were not deserving 


421 


A Captain of Industry 

of death. Every effort should be made to 
discover who did the killing and to bring 
the guilty parties to justice. But it was for 
the law and the courts to mete out this justice, 
not for the strikers themselves. If they took 
the law into their own hands how much 
better would they be than the men who 
fired the fatal shots? Might not their blows 
miss the guilty and fall upon the innocent, 
or even upon the guilty without a reckoning of 
the degree of their guilt ? 

Just as earnestly did Waters plead against 
visiting violence upon the men working in 
the mills. How could the strikers help them- 
selves by doing this? They should look the 
facts squarely in the face. The strike was 
a failure. He had feared in the beginning 
that it would be, and had therefore opposed 
the declaring of it. They must make the 
best of a bad situation. But whatever they 
did, let not their hands be stained with 
blood. Let not the cause of unionism suffer 
by the imputation of crime. 

That angry, turbulent crowd, however, 
was in no mood for conciliatory counsels, 
and Waters’s words fell upon deaf ears. 
He felt this while he was speaking, and 
became fully convinced of it when he finished, 

422 


The Meeting in the Park 

and heard the hisses, jeers and angry exclama- 
tions that greeted the conclusion of his speech. 
Sick at heart, and with the oppressive sense 
of impending disaster, he sorrowfully left 
the platform and the meeting. Tom Ten- 
wick went with him. As they passed out at 
the gateway of the park they looked back 
and saw that Aaron Gilks was now speaking, 
and they heard the yells and cheers of the 
crowd that, beyond doubt, were in approval 
of the speaker’s words. 

Gilks had been loudly called for. It was 
generally suspected among those who knew 
him that he had been the principal promoter 
of the meeting, and there was a natural 
expectation, therefore, that he would have 
something to say that would be worth hear- 
ing; something more suited to the temper of 
the crowd, certainly, than that to which they 
had just been listening. 

Gilks did not disappoint this expectation. 
His very appearance as he rose and faced 
the shouting and cheering throng, bespoke 
a message of war rather than of peace. His 
eyes were bloodshot, and his bushy hair — 
never quite amenable to comb and brush — 
showed an unusual state of disarrangement. 
There was a several days’ growth or beard 

423 


A Captain of Industry 

upon his face. A coarse woolen shirt, unbut- 
toned at the throat, revealed a masculine 
hirsuteness of breast that blended fittingly 
with the general unkemptness of his looks. 

Gilks’s speech was quite in keeping with 
his appearance. The realization that the 
strike, which he had done so much to promote, 
was thus far a complete failure, had evidently 
made Gilks desperate. For all restraint was 
thrown to the winds, and rankling hate and 
reckless fanaticism were given unbridled 
tongue. 

Waters and his policy of peace came in 
for an unmerciful scoring. 

“Law and order To hell with law and 
order!” Gilks shouted, with a great sweep 
of his doubled fist. “WeVe had enough of 
that twaddle. Law and order hasn’t helped 
us, and won’t help us. I tell you, men, it’s 
about time for us to raise the red flag of 
lawlessness and of disorder!” 

A great cheer came from the crowd. 

“There are times when men and people 
have got to take the law into their own hands 
— to put themselves above the law^ — and when 
it is right to do it. There has been plenty 
of lawlessness in the history of the world 
that we now look back to as heroic and 

424 


The Meeting in the Park 
praiseworthy. 

“Was it law and order when those make- 
believe redskins threw the tea overboard in 
Boston harbor? Hardly. And yet, we call 
them the Revolutionary patriots. Was John 
Brown law-abiding when he attacked the 
arsenal at Harpers Ferry in his attempt to 
free the slaves? They wouldn’t have hung 
him if he had been. And yet, the colored 
people look upon John Brown as their John 
the Baptist, the forerunner of their saviour 
Lincoln. What was the French Revolution 
but a perfect orgy of disorder, of defiance of 
law ? To the rich, self-satisfied and snobbish 
aristocrats of the time, the revolutionists were 
nothing but outlaws — fit food for the guillotine. 
But the historian of that period shows us only 
a people — the common people, rising up in 
their might and majesty, and throwing off 
the yoke of tyranny and oppression that had 
galled their necks for centuries. 

“Different times bring different conditions. 
To-day we have the situation where the 
monied men of the country, having obtained 
control of both the capital and the means of 
production, are grinding the face of labor, 
and saddling it with a yoke as galling as ever 
were the chains of slavery. 

425 


A Captain of Industry 

“And shall we talk and listen to talk of 
law and order ? That’s the talk of our 
oppressors. Shall we parrot their fine phrases 
— play their game.? The law is their friend. 
It protects them in their tyrannous courses. 
It is our enemy, and holds us in our slavery. 
We’ve got to throttle the law — strangle it — 
kill it, if we would be free!” 

Again, as repeatedly throughout his speech, 
Gill^ was cheered to the echo. 

His manner, as well as the matter of his 
speech, was of a character to inflame the 
passions of the crowd. As he paced the 
platform, punctuating his scathing and vitu- 
perative denunciations with wildly swinging 
arms and stamping feet — at times jumping 
into the air and coming down with an impact 
that fairly shook the stand and threatened 
its security — ^he hardly seemed human, but 
rather like some enraged wild beast chafing 
under its restraining chain, eager to be 
unleashed, to fall mercilessly upon the object 
of its rage. 

Gilks’s madness, however, was not without 
a certain method. In getting up the meeting 
he had an ulterior motive beyond the public 
voicing of indignation over the killing of the 
two strikers. He saw that the strike must 

m 


The Meeting in the Park 

ultimately fail unless the strikers made a 
bold master-move to strike terror among 
the non-union men who now manned the 
mills. And this, as was determined upon 
by him and his fellow conspirators at their 
secret meeting the night before, was to be 
nothing less than a night attack on the mills, 
to expel the night force. 

The place selected for the mass meeting 
was a convenient one for setting the con- 
templated enterprise on foot, for the park 
was on the way toward the mills, and had 
them in full and unobstructed view. 

The riotous frenzy to which Gilks had 
brought the crowd he now turned against 
the non-union workmen. 

“We are told that the strike is a failure. 
Why is it a failure ? It’s because we’ve 
been too easy with the rascally scabs that 
are holding down our jobs. Why do we let 
them do it.^^ Are we cravens and cowards.^ 
Why do we let that flaming smoke pouring 
from those chimneys (Gilks pointed with 
menacing Anger toward the mills) continue 
to insult us? If we are brave men and not 
cowards — if we have any spark of manhood 
left in us — we will say now, and say it finally, 
that those mills shall be run by union men 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

or they sha’n’t be run at all!” 

A great shout of approval came from the 
crowd. 

“Let’s drive off the d d scabs!” cried 

a voice. 

The cry was taken up by a score of others. 

“Thars the talk!” cried Gilks. “To the 
mills! To the mills!” he shouted, swinging 
his arms wildly. “There they are. It won’t 
take us ten minutes to get there. Let’s give 

the d d scabs a lesson they won’t soon 

forget. Come on, men!” 

With a wave of his arm to the men on the 
platform, and a wild, demoniacal cry of 
^‘On to the mills!” Gilks jumped down into 
the crowd. 

A thunderous roar like the breaking of the 
sea came up, as with one impulse the crowd 
massed in a solid phalanx, surged out of the 
park and made toward the mills. 

The police and deputy sheriffs patroling 
upon the outskirts of the crowd, realized too 
late the riotous character of the assembly, 
for as they now broke in upon the howling, 
yelling, cursing and frenzied mass, in a desper- 
ate attempt to disperse it, they were swept 
aside like straws upon an angry flood. 

Crack! sounded the report of a pistol. 

428 



“ To the mills ! 


To the mills! 










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1 


The Meeting in the Park 

And then another; and yet a third. 

Recking not who has fallen, the yelling, 
maddened mob rushes on, Gilks now at the 
forefront like a captain at the head of his 
troops, waving his hands to the crowd to 
follow, lustily inspiriting the line, and setting 
the pace at a double-quick. 

On, and ever nearer the mills they come, 
gathering momentum and frenzy as they 
advance. And now they have reached the 
mills. The deputy sheriffs there on duty 
empty their revolvers into the advancing 
mass, and fly. For a moment the line wavers 
under the rain of the random bullets, then, 
pressed by the surging mass behind, again 
lurches forward. 

Warned of the approaching mob, the 
workers in the mills wait not to be driven 
away, but, dropping their work, they rush 
helter-skelter out of the mills, flying hither 
and thither in the wild sauve qui pent of a 
panic. 

Into the mills rush the mob. The workers 
gone, they wreak their rage upon the ma- 
chinery. Rolls and furnaces, engines, wheels 
and beltings, are battered into masses of 
useless wreckage. 

Now the sky is lighted up with a lurid 
429 


A Captain of Industry 

glare. Flames are shooting from the roofs 
and crevices of the outlying buildings and 
sheds, and now, too, in serpent-tongued 
forks from the windows of the adjacent 
office building. 

Out from the mills rushes the howling, yelling 
mob, like fiends from the pit of hell. But 
sobered now by the sight of the burning 
buildings, the flames from which are bearing 
upon and threaten the mills, the majority 
hurry incontinently back to town. A few 
remain for a time to watch the havoc of the 
flames, and then slink away, leaving them 
to do their devastating work. 

What the fiends of the mob commenced, 
the fire-fiends finish. Fierce and strong the 
wind-borne flames beat against the mill walls. 
Brick though they be, they melt away under 
the continued licking of the fire. 

And now, all the mill buildings are flame- 
enveloped. Wall after wall topples and falls, 
and the unsupported roofs come crashing 
down to hopeless ruin. 

******* 

In the gray of the early morning the towns- 
people who turned their eyes millward saw 

430 


The Meeting in the Park 

naught but the two tall, fire-brick chimneys 
strongly outlined against the eastern sky, 
towering high and frowningly, like monu- 
mental shafts marking the havoc and death 
of the night. 


431 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

One policeman and one deputy sheriff had 
been killed and another policeman seriously 
wounded, while attempting to disperse the 
mob as it moved out of the park. Several 
of the mob, also, had been wounded by the 
volley the deputies fired into the crowd at 
the mills. 

Aaron Gilks was placed under arrest as 
he came home late in the night, bleeding 
and faint from an ugly bullet wound in the 
head. The next day warrants were sworn 
out for the arrest of Hermann Schultz and 
all the strikers who had taken an active part 
in the meeting in the park, including John 
Waters. Tom Tenwick was also arrested; 
for he had distributed the handbills announc- 
ing the meeting, and had been seen upon 
the speakers’ platform at the meeting. 

Waters’s arrest came as a surprise to those 
who knew him, and especially to those who 
attended the park meeting and heard his 
speech. But amid the general excitement 
432 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

and indignation aroused by the events of the 
night, the authorities held themselves to no 
nice discriminations in their attempt to fix 
the responsibility therefor. The handbill call- 
ing the park meeting was signed “Commit- 
tee.” This was taken to mean the strike 
committee; and of this committee Waters 
was known to be a member. His presence 
and prominence at the meeting lent support 
to this assumption. 

But Waters and Ten wick were not without 
a friend in their misfortune. Mr. Middleton, 
from his knowledge of the men, was loath 
to believe that they had any connection with 
the criminal acts for which they were held. 
Much to the surprise of the sheriff, and even 
more to the surprise of Waters and Ten wick 
themselves, he called at the county jail to 
see them. Confirmed in his belief in their 
entire innocence after a talk with them, he 
went at once and retained Mr. Langdon for 
their defense, assuming all financial responsi- 
bility therefor, and urging Langdon to spare 
no expense in the preparation of his case in 
their behalf. 

Langdon, likewise fully convinced of 
Waters and Tenwick’s innocence, after an 
intmiew with them, made a strong effprt 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

to secure their release on the preliminary 
hearing which was given all the defendants 
before the police magistrate. 

In this, however, he was not successful. 
In preliminary hearings but little evidence 
is required to hold an accused person. Here 
the presumption in favor of the accused 
(in theory, at least), upon a regular trial, is 
reversed. He is presumed to be guilty. The 
fact of his arrest seems to be enough to con- 
demn him, or at all events throws over him 
such a shadow of guilt that he must needs 
be treated like a criminal, incarcerated with- 
out bail, and have locked upon his wrists 
the ugly manacles of the convict. 

The police magistrate found enough evi- 
dence to hold Waters and Ten wick, along 
with Gilks, Schultz and the other accused 
strikers, for the grand jury. 

Fruitless, too, were Langdon’s efforts to 
have his clients released on bail, which Mr. 
Middleton stood ready to furnish. It was a 
capital charge — ^the killing of the oflBcers, 
or legal responsibility therefor — and bail could 
not be received. All the accused were com- 
mitted to jail to await the action of the grand 
jury, which was shortly to convene. 

Now, it had not been ascertained who 

434 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

fired the fatal shots in the park. Aaron 
Gilks, while not seeking to evade responsi- 
bility for his actual deeds, stoutly denied 
having done any shooting. The other accused 
strikers made the same denials. Hermann 
Schultz, ready enough to talk blood, pre- 
ferred to let others do the shedding of it 
and he had hurried home without joining 
the mob. 

The taking of human life, however, has 
always been considered a suflficiently serious 
thing to justify certain presumptions and 
fictions in fixing responsibility for the crime 
where the real perpetrator is unknown. In a 
certain country (so it is said) the one found 
nearest the body of the murdered person is 
apprehended and charged with the murder. 
This has the merit of simplicity in criminal 
procedure, at least. Somewhat more com- 
plex, although equally certain and sure in 
the securing of a victim, is the theory of 
criminal conspiracy: a kind of drag-net, of 
wide sweep and close mesh, which is a favored 
device in State’s Attorneys’ oflSces where the 
real culprit may have eluded the vigilance 
of the police-department sleuths, or where 
the nature of the crime, the circumstances 
attending it and the public interest in, and 
435 


A Captain of Industry 

indignation over it, as well as the character 
and affiliations of the alleged conspirators, 
all readily lend themselves to such a mode 
of procedure. 

It is not past belief that the State’s Attorney, 
in the last extremity, would have brought 
a charge of criminal conspiracy against all 
the members of the ironworkers’ union, hold- 
ing all responsible for the park murders. 

He was not driven to this extremity, how- 
ever. Information concerning the secret meet- 
ing of the strike leaders leaked out; and its 
scope and purpose, and who participated in 
it, came fully to light after the “sweat-box” 
examination to which the accused strikers 
were subjected. 

The public prosecutor now thought his 
case complete. Here was an unlawful con- 
spiracy. The meeting in the park was in 
pursuance and in promotion of it, and the 
murders a direct result of it. The con- 
spirators were therefore responsible for the 
murders. The same responsibility was laid 
upon Schultz, Waters and Tenwick on the 
theory that they came into the conspiracy 
after it was formed, and aided and abetted 
its execution. 

Upon the theory of criminal conspiracy, 

436 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

therefore, a bill of indictment against all the 
accused, jointly, was drawn by the State’s 
Attorney, presented to the grand jury when 
it met, and by that body found a “true bill.” 
On this indictment, charging murder in the 
first degree, the accused were arraigned and 
placed upon their trial. 

Langdon, realizing the serious position in 
which Waters and Ten wick were placed, 
and the peril in a joinder of their cases with 
the others, refused other offered retainers in 
the case, and, at the proper time, made a 
demand for. a separate trial on their behalf. 
But as the defendants had been jointly 
indicted, the matter of allowing separate 
trials lay in the discretion of the court; and 
that discretion the court exercised in denying 
Langdon’s demand. 

Judge Baldwin no longer sat upon the 
circuit bench. A vacancy had recently oc- 
curred on the supreme bench of the State, 
and general satisfaction was expressed by 
both press and bar when the governor honored 
the Nestor of the circuit bench by appointing 
him to the vacant seat. 

Having consulted judicial fitness solely in 
this appointment, the governor felt at liberty 
to pay a political debt with the circuit judge- 

487 


A Captain of Industry 

ship at his disposal through the elevation of 
Judge Baldwin. 

Judge Curdy, the present incumbent of 
the woolsack of the Ellerton circuit, through 
the favor of the governor, had smoothed 
his road to advancement by a judicious 
mixture of politics with law. He had made 
himself a considerable political power in his 
section of the State, and during the last 
election had done yeoman service for the 
governor in his gubernatorial campaign. 

But the qualities which go to make a good 
politician are a far remove from those essen- 
tial to the making of a good judge. Judge 
Curdy lacked not only the high legal attain- 
ments of Judge Baldwin, but he was likewise 
incapable of that judicial detachment from 
the cause, the parties and the attorneys in 
the case, which was so marked a characteristic 
of his predecessor. An extreme partisan in 
politics, it was with difficulty that he restrained 
himself from taking sides in the cases that 
came before him. And while there was 
seldom any flagrant exhibition of partiality, 
his prejudices and his quickly assumed pref- 
erences were not slow to develop a bias 
(frequently an unconscious one) in favor of 
one side or the other, which tinged his rulings, 

438 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

jury charges and decisions, and thus dis- 
qualified him for a proper discharge of 
judicial functions. 

In view of the public excitement and 
indignation over the work of the mob, and the 
consequent popular prejudice against the de- 
fendants, it needed a man of a more judicial 
temper than Judge Curdy possessed to sit 
in judgment upon their cases, and hold the 
scales of justice evenly. Of course, in a 
criminal case, the fate of the accused rests 
finally with the jury. But jurors are only 
human (albeit wordy lawyers in their ad- 
dresses to them are wont to ascribe to them 
the most transcendent virtues), and other 
influences besides the legitimate one of the 
weight of the evidence weave themselves 
subtly and insensibly into their minds, and 
are no inconsiderable factors in the forma- 
tion of their verdicts. Not the least potent 
of such influences is the attitude and bearing 
of the trial judge throughout the trial. 

Now, whether it was that Judge Curdy 
was personally so wrought up over the flagrant 
character of the crimes committed that he 
was unable to maintain a judicial and becom- 
ing balance, or that he was caught up and 
carried along by the ground-swell of the 

439 


A Captain of Industry 

public indignation and clamor, certain it 
IS that he gave evidence of an unmistakable 
bias against the defendants. This was shown 
in his admission and rejection of evidence, 
the acerbity of his comments thereon, and, 
above all, in his final charge to the jury. 
Indeed, an impartial observer in the court 
room, and one possessed of average imagina- 
tion, might easily have imagined himself at 
a sitting of the Bloody Assizes with My 
Lord Jeffreys on the bench. 

No justification for the court’s thus making 
itself an arm of the prosecution could have 
been found in any weakness or neglect on 
the part of the State’s counsel. For the 
State was well and ably represented. 

The State’s Attorney, a bald-headed, hawk- 
nosed, keen-eyed, bristle-mustached man, bore 
the ominous and grewsomely suggestive name 
of Cofiin, a name quite fitting and appropriate 
for a prosecuting officer, and one that the 
State’s Attorney during his two terms’ incum- 
bency of the district attorney’s office had 
seemed ambitious to live up to. Through 
his exceptional ability and skill as a pros- 
ecutor he had been the means of having 
more than one homicidal culprit measured 
for his coffin; and now in this, no doubt 

440 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

destined to be the cause celebre of the circuit, 
and the most important case of his pro- 
fessional life, he seemed more than ever 
zealous and determined to impose under- 
taking duties upon the sheriff. 

Mr. CoflSn, in short, was a type of the 
public prosecutor not infrequently met with 
m courts of justice, with whom it is “any- 
thing to convict”; who looks upon his office 
not as a high public trust to be administered 
along the lines of professional duty, but 
rather as a ladder for his own advancement, 
of which every conviction is an ascending 
rung; whose concern is not that justice be 
done but that the accused be convicted; 
whose prosecution becomes persecution, and 
who, to secure a conviction, will even stoop 
to the practices of the shyster and the petti- 
fogger. 

Associated with Mr. Coffin as counsel for 
the State was Mr. Flitwood, of Willard & 
Flitwood. He had been retained by Mr. 
Hartland personally, to assist the State’s 
Attorney in the prosecution. Mr. Hartland, 
in fact, seemed as eager as the State’s At- 
torney to have the defendants convicted; not, 
it may be imagined, out of any public-spirited 
solicitude for the vindication of justice, but 

441 


A Captain of Industry 

to wreak his revenge for the burning of the 
mills. 

The chief counsel for the defense was 
Truman B. Ellis of Chicago — “True” Ellis 
as he was familiarly known — one of the 
leading criminal lawyers in the West, who 
had been sent to Ellerton by the members 
of a number of labor organizations in Chicago 
to succor their brethren in distress. 

Mr. Ellis had proved his metal in many a 
hard-fought legal battle. Besides a thorough 
mastery of criminal law, he had what is, 

[ )erhaps, more important still to the criminal 
awyer, a command of “jury eloquence.” 
This species of eloquence is not to be measured 
by the ordinary standards applied to eloquence 
and oratory. Its persuasiveness and verdict- 
compelling force he not so much in a skilful 
marshalling and powerful enforcing of the 
favorable points of the evidence, as in be- 
clouding the real issues with extraneous and 
fictitious ones which allow of free play to 
imagination and feeling, and afford opportun- 
ity for appeals to the emotions of the jury- 
men rather than to their judgment. In 
jury speeches embellished by this sort of 
eloquence there are fine-sounding periods 
on the greatness and grandeur of our mstitu- 

442 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

tions, the jury system, the august and exalted 
office of ju^men and their weighty and awful 
responsibilities ; upon Constitutional guar- 
anties, the sacredness of life and liberty, the 
majesty of the law, the white-robed and 
blinded goddess of justice, with her evenly 
balanced scales, etc., etc. 

Many a desperate case had Mr. Ellis 
rescued from the toils of incriminating evi- 
dence by these eloquent excursions into legal 
by-paths which wrought a kind of hypnotic 
spell upon the jury, leading them away from 
the real issues to find a verdict which, on 
emerging from their hypnotic trance, they 
were themselves quite ready to discredit. 

There were certain accessories to Mr. 
Ellis’s eloquence that contributed to his 
hypnotic power. He was of commanding 
figure — tall and straight as an arrow. His 
tallness was accentuated by the long, black 
frock coat of clerical cut that he always wore 
during the trial of his cases. His dark 
brown hair falling in long, wavy folds almost 
to his shoulders gave something of majesty 
to the shake of his large, well-shaped head. 
His features were strongly marked, and his 
face, which was smooth-shaven, had that 
peculiar, almost classic pallor that is often 

443 


A Captain of Industry 

seen in men who have been hard drinkers 
and have retrieved themselves to a life of 
abstinence. Ellis had, indeed, at one time 
been addicted to the habit of applying hot 
and rebellious liquors to his blood. But 
that the enemy thus put in his mouth had not 
completely stolen away his brains was evi- 
denced by the fact that after a slow recovery 
from a fit of delirium tremens he came to 
the very sensible, if obvious, conclusion that 
whiskey wasn’t good for him, and stopped 
drinking it. 

He was now past fifty, and at the height 
of his fame as a criminal lawyer. His appear- 
ance in behalf of the Ellerton rioters had 
attracted attention to the case throughout 
the State, and leading newspapers noted 
its progress from day to day. 

It is needless to say, the case was the 
absorbing topic of talk in Ellerton, and 
crowds, limited only by the capacity of the 
court room, were in daily attendance. 

Mr. Middleton was a quite regular attend- 
ant upon the trial. Edith, too, occasionally 
came with him. And it is suspected that 
Langdon was not now so completely en- 
grossed with the case as to be entirely oblivious 
of her presence. 


444 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

The trial lasted three full weeks. Almost 
the whole of the first week was taken up 
in impaneling a jury — that wonderful legal 
fencing by which, after a multiplicity of 
challenges and counter-challenges to the 
panel, peremptory, for cause general and 
particular, and for no conceivable cause at 
all, the right man is excused and the wrong 
one retained. 

Venire after venire was exhausted in this 
wearisome winnowing process, and the sheriff 
now had other than police duty for his numer- 
ous deputies in scouring the county for 
available raw material for this legal whittling. 

The panel was finally completed, however, 
and “twelve good men and true” sat in the 
jury box to hold the awful balances of life 
and death in which the defendants were to 
be weighed. 

And now the trial is on. The great crowd 
in the court room, whose patience has been 
sorely tried by the long and tedious pre- 
liminaries, bends forward in tense expectancy 
as the State’s Attorney rises to open the case 
for the State. 

Carefully and clearly, and with no attempt 
at oratorical flourish in this opening address, 
the State’s Attorney outlines to the jury what 

445 


A Captain of Industry 

the State expects to prove — link by link of 
the chain of evidence that will support the 
indictment and encircle the defendants with 
its iron grip. 

The State’s Attorney’s opening address is 
finished, and now with the swearing of the 
first witness for the State, the battle is on in 
earnest. And fiercely is it waged; for the 
issues are momentous. The great sovereign 
State has for a time abdicated its beneficent 
ofiice of Protector to become the vindictive 
Avenger. It is demanding the highest and 
last forfeiture from a number of its citizens. 
Yet, not ruthlessly does it stretch forth its 
powerful hand. Constrained by self-imposed 
checks, it proceeds according to the august 
forms of law. There shall be wager of 
battle. Not, as of old, with batons and 
staves, nor with other mere material weapons. 
It is to be a battle of wits. But like many 
of the ancient wagers of battle, it is a vicarious 
battle. The State can contend only through 
its regularly constituted representatives, and 
the defendants, lame and blind in the law, are 
allowed their chosen champions. Doughty 
champions these are who have entered the 
lists, and like the valiant champions of old 
they will do lusty combat until the stars 

446 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

shine forth at night to release them from the 
fray. 

Through the many eyes in the court room, 
and through myriad eyes outside it, the State 
looks on at this contest. With a more vital 
interest is this fiercely waged battle followed 
by the prisoners at the bar. There they 
sit inside the bar, flanked by the sheriff and 
a number of his trusty deputies. There 
sits Aaron Gilks with a great patch on the 
side of his head, marking the all but fatal 
track of the deputy’s bullet. There is yet 
no trace of submissive penitence in his face, 
but defiance instead, and rankling hate 
and contemptuous indifference. There sit 
his half-dozen fellow conspirators trying, but 
with poor success, to match the composure 
of their chief. There is Hermann Schultz 
with the scared, hunted look of a caged 
rat, casting furtive looks about, as if seeking 
a means of escape. There, too, sit John 
Waters and Tom Tenwick, side by side, in the 
close friendship of misfortune. The dominant 
look in Waters’s face is that of sadness 
rather than of fear; a sadness, however, not 
abiding and settled, but whose gloom is 
lightened by a ray born of a consciousness 
of innocence, and whose shadow is softened 

447 


A Captain of Industry 

and sanctified by the calm resignation that 
bows submissively to the chastening rod. 

Bewilderment is the expression most plainly 
written in Tenwick’s face. Poor Tom! He 
cannot see why the distributing of a bundle 
of handbills should have brought him into 
this lamentable and shameful duress. No, 
Tom, of course you can’t. That lies quite 
beyond the scope of your simple intelligence. 
It is a problem only to be grasped and solved 
by the ingenious and masterful mind of the 
prosecuting attorney. 

Courage! simple-minded and large-heart- 
ed Tom Ten wick. Courage! honest John 
Waters. There at the attorneys’ table sits 
your puissant champion; and he will move 
heaven and earth to keep from the lips of 
innocent men the poisoned chalice of avenging 
justice. 

The trial has not proceeded very far before 
it becomes apparent that the dominant and 
dominating personality at the attorneys’ table 
is not the noted criminal lawyer from Chicago. 
It is Langdon. Not that Attorney Ellis is 
in any way derelict in the conduct of the 
case on behalf of the defense. He is ready, 
alert and forceful, skilful in cross-examination, 
and strong in his argument of law points to 
448 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

the court. But over all is the atmosphere 
of insincerity, the taint of professionalism, 
the cold and bloodless straining of the mer- 
cenary. The hands of his clients are not 
clean of guilt. His task is not to vindicate 
innocence, but to ward off the descending 
blows of retributive justice. 

Langdon’s task is a different and more 
ennobling one: to clear the innocent from the 
imputation and reproach of crime, to rescue 
them from the toils of circumstantial evidence 
that have enmeshed their unwary feet and 
in which an ingenious and merciless pros- 
ecutor seeks to hold them. It is a task to 
engage his heart as well as his head, his 
noblest sympathies as a man as well as his 
highest efforts and skill as an advocate. 

Strong and masterful he rises to the occa- 
sion. He has been careful to buttress and 
fortify his case with that all-essential thing — 
evidence. He knows, too, what the State 
must prove, and will try to prove, to convict 
his clients. 

It is beautiful to see how he riddles the 
State’s case against Waters and Tenwick 
by a merciless cross-examination of the State’s 
witnesses, and completely destroys it by 
rebutting evidence when he puts in his own 

449 


A Captain of Industry 

case; how, against a harassing opposition 
and an adverse court, he drives this evidence 
home; but above all, how, when the case is 
closed, he sums up the evidence to the jury 
in a powerful and eloquent address which 
reaches high-water mark in the annals of the 
Ellerton bar, and long remains one of its 
most cherished traditions. 

In face of Langdon’s masterly defense, the 
State’s Attorney is shrewd enough to see the 
weakness of the State’s case against Waters 
and Tenwick, and therefore, lest he weaken 
his case against the other defendants by a 
too persistent pushing of a losing fight with 
Langdon, he masses his legal batteries against 
the more vulnerable ramparts of Mr. Ellis’s 
defense. Here he delivers some telling blows; 
for unimpeachable testimony and the court’s 
rulings thereon are powerful aids in his 
onslaught. Strive as he may — and valiantly 
does he strive — Mr. Ellis fails to break the 
force of the incriminating evidence. In an 
eloquent and characteristic summing up to 
the jury he seeks to cloak the inherent weak- 
ness of his case upon the evidence; to draw 
the jury away from the cold and incriminating 
facts in the case by those oratorical blandish- 
ments of which he is an acknowledged master. 
450 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

The State’s Attorney will know how to 
meet this specious, wool-over-eye-pulling argu- 
ment; and he does meet it in his closing 
speech to the jury, by a keen, rigid and force- 
ful analysis of the evidence. 

Now, finally, comes the charge of the 
court to the jury, which is strongly against 
the defendants, qualified only by a short 
summary of the evidence favorable to Waters 
and Tenwick, the weight and suflficiency of 
which as a defense is left for the consideration 
of the jury. 

The jury retire to consider their verdict. 
It is well along in the afternoon, and Judge 
Curdy adjourns court until ten o’clock the 
next morning. 

From the time they leave the jury box, 
through the long night and into the morning 
hours the jury remain in closeted consulta- 
tion. But before the hour for the opening 
of court it is rumored that they have agreed 
and are ready to report to the court. By ten 
o’clock the court room is filled to overfiowing 
with an eager, anxious and expectant throng. 

The sheriff and his deputies come in with 
the prisoners. The attorneys are in their places 
at the attorneys’ table. Judge Curdy enters 
from his chambers and ascends to the bench. 

451 


A Captain of Industry 

Court is opened. The jury file in from 
the jury room and take their seats in the jury 
box. They look wearied and haggard from 
their long struggle for unanimity, and there 
is an ominous gravity and seriousness in their 
faces. 

The judge turns toward them. 

“ Gentlemen, have you agreed upon a 
verdict he asks. 

The foreman of the jury rises. 

“We have, your honor,” and he hands a 
folded paper to the clerk. The clerk hands 
it to the judge, who opens and reads it, and 
gives it back to the clerk to be read aloud. 

The clerk reads: 

“We, the jury, find the defendants, John 
Waters and Thomas Ten wick, not guilty; 
we find the defendants, Aaron Gilks, Hermann 
Schultz, Henry Hirsh, Robert Dalton, Patrick 
Flynn, George Baker, Michael Lynch and 
Anton Helwitz, guilty of murder in manner 
and form as charged in the indictment, and 
fix the penalty at death.” 

A deathlike stillness ensues upon the 
reading of the last fateful words of the verdict. 
The silence is broken by Attorney Ellis who 
rises and asks that the jury be polled. One 
by one, as their names are called, the jurymen 

452 


The Trial of the Conspirators 

give an affirmative answer to the question, 
^‘Is this your verdict?” their several responses 
falling like clods upon the coffins of the 
convicted prisoners. 

The State’s Attorney moves for sentence 
on the verdict. 

Again Mr. Ellis rises and gives notice of a 
motion for a new trial, and asks that sentence 
be deferred pending decision upon the motion. 

Sentence is accordingly deferred. 

Judge Curdy now turns again to the jury, 
and with a few commendatory words for 
their patience during the protracted trial, 
and their conscientious performance of a 
disagreeable duty, discharges them. 

Waters and Tenwick, having been acquitted 
by the jury, are now formally discharged by 
the court. The other defendants are recom- 
mitted to the custody of the sheriff to await 
sentence and the last demands of the law. 

Court is adjourned. 

The trial is over. 


453 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


The Law of Conspiracy 

A BUZZ of talk ensued upon the adjourn- 
ment of court. The crowd in the court room 
seemed in no hurry to leave, but remained 
to discuss excitedly among themselves the 
incidents and result of the trial. There was 
a craning of necks to get a look at the con- 
victed prisoners as they filed out of the court 
room, handcuffed to the sheriff’s deputies for 
greater security. Curiosity was not unmixed 
with commiseration. For although it was the 
general opinion that these men had received 
their just deserts, there is yet something 
awful in the visitation of the law’s extreme 
penalty that evokes a feeling of sympathy 
for the victims in the breasts of all but the 
most hard-hearted and vindictive. 

True, there was no sign of pity in Mr. 
Hartland’s face as he stood with a number 
of others having a congratulatory chat with 
Mr. Flitwood and the State’s Attorney. 
There was, rather, a* malignant gleam of 
satisfaction in his eyes as they fell upon the 
454 


The Law of Conspiracy 

doomed men, which said as plainly as words 
could have said: “Served the scoundrels 
right. Let lawbreakers have a care how 
they raise their lawless hands against 
property!” 

A more pleasing group was that of which 
Waters, Ten wick and Langdon were the 
center. Friends pushed forward to con- 
gratulate the former upon their acquittal, 
and Langdon upon his triumphant defense. 
Among the first of these was Mr. Middleton, 
whose moist eyes and warm hand-clasp testi- 
fied his great pleasure over the acquittal of 
the men he believed to be innocent of the 
grave charge that had been laid against 
them. Let no one doubt, either, the sincerity 
of the tears of gratitude that were coursing 
down the faces of Waters and Tenwick as 
they grasped the hands of Langdon and Mr. 
Middleton — ^the one their deliverer, the other 
their powerful friend in the hour of their 
greatest need. 

One of Langdon’s friends in the court 
room did not come forward and take his 
hand. She stood back and waited for her 
father. But when her father rejoined her 
and they passed out of the court room she 
gave Langdon a look (which he caught) — a 

455 


A Captain of Industry 

look, oh! so different from the one she gave 
him on a former occasion in that same court 
room. Who can blame Langdon if amid all 
the congratulations of the morning he found 
in that one look the greatest reward of his 
success ? 

Not the least cordial and, to Langdon, 
welcome congratulations came from the attor- 
ney for the convicted prisoners. Long inured 
to the ups and downs of a lawyer’s fortunes, 
Mr. Ellis did not appear very crestfallen 
over the failure of his defense. 

“ I don’t see why they had to send to 
Chicago for me,” he said as he took Langdon’s 
hand, “when they had such good lawyers 
right here on the ground.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Ellis, for your flattering 
insinuation,” returned Langdon with a smile. 
“But your task was a much harder one than 
mine.” 

“It was not an easy one, certainly, in face 
of the court’s rulings as to the law of the 
case.” 

“I have grave doubts as to the correctness 
of some of those rulings,” said Langdon. 

“There is enough in the record, I think, 
to reverse the case on appeal. Judge Curdy 
will probably deny my motion for a new 

456 


The Law of Conspiracy 

trial and, of course, I shall then have the 
record written up and take the case to the 
supreme court. And I want you to file a 
brief on behalf of the appellants, Mr. Lang- 
don.” 

“ Well, I suppose I can do that, if you wish 
it, Mr. Ellis, now that my clients are out of 
the case.” 

“All right. I shall depend upon you. 
I needn’t tell you to make it a strong one.” 

“I will do my best.” 

“ That’s all the assurance I want, Mr. 
Langdon.” 

Then in a burst of generous appreciation: 

“Say, Langdon, why do you want to bury 
yourself in this town.? Come to Chicago. 
We need men like you. You needn’t be 
afraid of not getting plenty to do.” 

“Why should Mahomet go to the moun- 
tain, wheii the mountain comes to him.?” 
said Langdon with a quizzical smile. “ Chi- 
cago’s most noted lawyer has just asked me 
to file a brief in his case.” 

Mr. Ellis laughed appreciatively at Lang- 
don’s happy evasion. 

“There are doubtless social ties here that 
would be hard for you to break,” he said, 
without a thought of making a bull’s-eye 

457 


A Captain of Industry 

hit at Langdon’s disinclination to leave 
Ellerton. 

Langdon flushed. 

“ Oh, yes, there are always other considera- 
tions besides business ones in a matter of 
changing one’s domicile,” he said, in a tone 
that he strove hard to make indifferent. 

“Well,” said Mr. Ellis, “if you ever do 
get to the point where you feel like making 
a change, just remember that the latch- 
string will always be out for you in Chicago.” 

“Thank you for saying so, Mr. Ellis,” 
said Langdon feelingly. 

In due time Mr. JEllis made and argued 
his motion for a new trial. As he had antici- 
pated, Judge Curdy denied the motion. Judg- 
ment was now entered on the verdict, and 
the convicted prisoners were sentenced to be 
hanged. 

Mr. Ellis then sued out a writ of error, 
and the case was brought before the supreme 
court thereon, the writ being made a super- 
sedeas to the judgment and execution. 

Pursuant to his agreement with Mr. Ellis, 
Mr. Langdon prepared and filed a brief as of 
counsel for plaintiffs in error. The appeal 
was exhaustively argued before the supreme 
court, the Statens Attorney having the assist- 

458 


The Law of Conspiracy 

ance of the Attorney- General, who now ap- 
peared in the case on behalf of the State. 

For three long months after it was sub- 
mitted the supreme court held the case under 
advisement, which plainly indicated that the 
court had considerable difficulty in reaching 
a decision. 

The decision finally came, however, and 
was announced in a lengthy opinion covering 
more than fifty pages in the later printed 
supreme court report. 

The judgment of the circuit court was 
affirmed. 

Not that numerous and manifest errors 
were not found in the record. But, having 
recourse to the very convenient and often 
used formula, the court found that viewing 
the record as a whole the judgment was 
right — a conclusion that carping critics might 
consider as equivalent to saying that the 
defendants ought to hang anyway, even 
though the proceedings leading to their con- 
viction were irregular. 

Could it have been that the supreme court, 
too, was influenced by the public clamor 
and the many lurid diatribes of the news- 
papers against the lawless rioters and anarch- 
ists ? 


459 


A Captain of Industry 

Let no one dare say so and incur the grave 
danger of being publicly pilloried for lese 
majeste. Our supreme court judges, sitting 
in serene dignity upon their lofty seats, are not 
thought to have their calm judgments ruffled 
by the passions and prejudices that sway the 
judgments of ordinary mortals; and their 
decisions are not, therefore, considered proper 
subjects for the criticism of the laity. 

True, among themselves their decisions 
have no immunity from attack. 

Witness, now: The majority opinion in 
this case was all but ridiculed by Judge 
Baldwin in a vigorous dissenting opinion, 
in which he came out squarely upon the 
broad and sweeping proposition that the 
facts disclosed in the record did not and 
could not support an indictment for murder. 
For riot and incitement to riot, for assault, 
for arson and malicious destruction of prop- 
erty, possibly even for manslaughter, indict- 
ments might properly have been laid. But 
murder was not the contemplated object of 
the proved conspiracy. That object was the 
expulsion of the non-union workmen from 
the mills. Murder was not a necessary in- 
cident to the successful carrying out of 
such a conspiracy. The killing of the police 

460 


The Law of Conspiracy 

officers was but coincident with the execution 
of the conspiracy, not an essential part of 
it, or necessarily in furtherance of it. From 
aught that appeared in the record to the 
contrary the murders may have been the 
work of miscreants who found the occasion 
a convenient one for the wreaking of private 
malice. If it be said that the incendiary 
speeches of some of the defendants at the 
park meeting incited the murders, it should 
be noted that these speeches, so far as they 
bore upon the police officers, were of a general 
character and, for the most part, condemna- 
tory of their supposed unjustifiable killing 
of the two strikers the day before. If the 
guaranty of free speech was not to be regarded 
as meaningless surplusage in our organic 
law, the grave penalty here imposed should 
never follow even the most incendiary utter- 
ances, but should be reserved for the overt 
act of murder, or its direct instigation. The 
actual perpetrators of the crime for which 
the defendants were convicted were, it ap- 
peared, unknown. The case presented was 
the sufficiently familiar one of undiscovered 
crime. Morally responsible, in a measure, 
the defendants might be for this crime, and 
legally responsible for other crimes for which 

461 


A Captain of Industry 

indictments might have been found. But 
the facts did not support the indictment 
upon which they were tried and convicted. 
The judgment, therefore, Judge Baldwin 
concluded, should have been reversed. 

The opinion went into an exhaustive dis- 
cussion of the law of criminal conspiracy, 
and Mr. Langdon had the great gratification 
of seeing how closely upon this branch of 
the case Judge Baldwin followed his brief. 

With the general public. Judge Baldwin’s 
dissenting opinion did not find very great 
favor. There was much loose talk and news- 
paper comment, to the effect that it was a 
defense of anarchy and lawlessness. Among 
leading lawyers throughout the State, how- 
ever, it was recognized as a masterly exposi- 
tion of the law of conspiracy; and the dis- 
senting rather than the majority opinion in 
the case will, without doubt, be looked to 
by the legal fraternity as being the repository 
of the law upon that important subject. 

It was doubtless Judge Baldwin’s dis- 
senting opinion that, more than anything 
else, influenced the governor in granting the 

E etition for clemency that was made on 
ehalf of the defendants. The sentence of 
death was commuted to life imprisonment 

462 


The Law of Conspiracy 

as to all the defendants except Aaron Gilks. 
As a sop to the Cerberus of public clamor 
the sentence as to Gilks, the arch-conspirator, 
as he was regarded, was allowed to stand. 

And upon Gilks the sentence of the court 
was executed. 

Gilks received the intelligence of his doom 
with the same stoicism he had shown through- 
out the trial. He scornfully refused all 
priestly consolation. Let the preachers pray 
for those who condemned him, he said. He 
didn’t need their prayers, unless they wanted 
to pray that he might be given a Samson’s 
strength and put between the pillars of the 
social structure to pull the rotten thing down 
and bury the Philistines with it. 

The days preceding his execution he passed 
in reading Carlyle’s “French Revolution,” 
and Dickens’s ‘^Tale of Two Cities”; and 
the night before the fatal day he startled his 
death-watch by a lusty singing of the “Mar- 
seillaise.” 

To the very last Gilks maintained a stoical 
fortitude. Without a tremor he mounted 
the scaffold — his composure being in marked 
contrast to the very noticeable perturbation 
of the deputy sheriffs as they went through 
the grewsome preparations — and his last wprds 

m 


A Captain of Industry 

as he stood on the fatal trap were words of 
rancorous defiance. 

Thus died Aaron Gilks. He died as he 
had lived, a fanatic prophet of discontent, 
a martyr — as he firmly believed — to the 
cause of oppressed labor. A martyr he 
doubtless was, in a sense. To many who 
reflected upon his defiant and impenitent 
attitude, he may have brought some search- 
ings of heart as to whether there may not be 
certain malign social influences working to 
produce such men as he; and whether the 
effectual remedy against them may not lie 
deeper than the barbarity of the hangman’s 
noose or the menace of prison walls. The 
venomous serpents of the jungle will not be 
exterminated with the club. They will dis- 
appear when the jungle itself is reclaimed 
from the rank and tangled vegetation wherein 
they find a congenial habitat, and from 
whose poisonous vapors their own deadly 
venom is distilled. 


464 


CHAPTER XXXV 


Mr. Hartland Takes a Change of Venue 

The conviction and sentence of all but 
two of the indicted strikers had somewhat 
appeased Mr. Hartland’s vindictive thirst for 
revenge. He would have been better satisfied, 
however, had the verdict of the jury been 
complete and sweeping by the inclusion of 
Waters and Tenwick in its plenary con- 
demnation. And this quite apart from any 
consideration as to their guilt or innocence 
of participation in the Hayden Park riot. 
Mr. Middleton was befriending them; and 
this was enough to arouse Mr. Hartland’s 
ill-will toward them. For since the decline 
in the mill company’s fortunes he had con- 
ceived for Mr. Middleton an unreasoning 
hatred. With strange obtuseness as to the 
real causes of the mill company’s sad plight, 
he placed all the blame for it upon Mr. 
Middleton and his son Philip. The feeling 
that rankled most was that he had been taken 
in by both of them; that he had been the 
willing horse upon whose back they had 

465 


A Captain of Industry 


unloaded their heavy holdings of mill stock 
— stock that now bade fair to become all but 
worthless. 

But Mr. Hartland had little time to brood 
over his supposed wrongs at the hands of 
the Middletons. The chaotic condition of 
the mill company’s affairs demanded his close 
and energetic attention. The complete wiping 
out of the mill plant by the fire rendered 
immediate resumption of business, of course, 
out of the question. A circular letter to 
creditors and customers, advising them of 
the unlooked for catastrophe, promised an 
early rebuilding of the mills and resumption 
of business, and full liquidation of all out- 
standing accounts. 

The company was eased of one heavy 
burden by a minimized payroll. All the mill 
workmen, with the exception of a few that 
were needed to gather together and protect 
the salvage, were discharged, as was also 
the entire office force. T larters 



for the company were 


Mr. 


Hartland at his bank. Here the books of 
the company (which, kept in the fire-proof 
vaults in the office building, had escaped 
the ravages of the flames) were removed, 
and here, with the assistance of Mr. Cosgrove 

466 


Mr, Hartland Takes a Change of Venue 

and the clerical force of the bank, Mr. Hart- 
land proceeded to a figurative taking of 
stock. 

If he had ever entertained a serious notion 
of rebuilding the mills and resuming opera- 
tions, Mr. Hartland soon abandoned that 
idea in his own mind after a few weeks’ work 
upon the books. The course he settled 
upon — a course that the logic of the situation 
forced upon him — was one of liquidation. 
The process of liquidation, however, was not 
one of very wide scope. It consisted in a 
vigorous drawing-in of the assets of the mill 
company and applying them upon the claim 
of his own bank, which, through the generous 
loans that Mr. Hartland had negotiated, was 
the heaviest creditor of the company. 

Had Mr. Hartland only been let alone 
he might eventually have squeezed enough 
out of the assets of the company to make his 
bank whole for its advances. But unfortu- 
nately for him he was not let alone. As 
week after week passed and no move was 
made to rebuild the mills or to allay the 
fears of creditors with anything more sub- 
stantial than promises, the creditors became 
more and more insistent in their demands 
for payment, and one of the largest out-of- 

467 


A Captain of Industry 


town creditors finally appeared in the circuit 
court with a petition for the appointment of 
a receiver for the company. 

This was trouble enough surely. But, again 
unfortunately for Mr. Hartland, his troubles 
did not end here. The petition for a receiver 
for a concern that through its president, its 
oflSce quarters and working force was so closely 
associated with a bank as the mill company 
now was, could not well help arousing a 
suspicion as to the solvency of the bank 
itself. It is not surprising, therefore, that 
during the day following the application for 
a receiver there were a number of heavy 
withdrawals of deposits from the Commercial 
Bank. The second day saw even greater 
drafts on the bank’s cash reserve; and on the 
third day, at the hour for the closing of the 
bank, there was a line of ’ tors that 



stretched from the paying 


window 


out into the street. 

A run on the bank was evidently impending. 

None of the bank officials knew better 
than Mr. Hartland that the bank was in no 
condition to withstand a run. Again the 
logic of the situation forced upon him a 
disagreeable alternative. 

The next morning the still larger throng 


468 


Mr. Hartland Takes a Change of Venue 

of depositors that came to draw out their 
balances found the bank doors closed, the 
door curtains drawn, and a written notice 
pasted on the inside of the glass panel of 
the door so that it could be read from the 
street. The notice, which was the usual 
“sparring for wind,” announced the sus- 
pension of business by the bank for a few 
days, owing to heavy and unexpected with- 
drawals; that the bank had ample assets 
to meet all claims, and that the depositors 
would be paid in full. 

The suspension of Ellerton’s leading bank 
caused the greatest consternation in the city. 
As is usually the case in bank failures, the 
blow fell heaviest upon those who were the 
least able to bear it. Hundreds among the 
poorer classes had their savings of years in 
the bank, their all, their little store laid by 
for the “rainy day” and for dependent age. 
An excited and angry crowd of these, with 
blanched faces, gathered on the sidewalk and 
in the street in front of the bank, muttering 
imprecations upon the bank officials, ana 
getting what comfort they could from the 
posted notice and from mingling their hopes 
and fears with those of their feflows in mis- 
fortune. 


469 


A Captain of Industry 

Neither Mr. Hartland nor any other of 
the bank oflficials came to allay tne fears of 
the depositors by word of mouth. Calls at 
the residences of Mr. Hartland and the 
cashier only elicited the information that 
the^ were not at home. 

Could the depositors have looked through 
the drawn curtains of the bank they would 
have seen both men busily at work over 
books and papers. What they were doing 
may well be left to conjecture in the light 
of subsequent disclosures. A hint may be 
hazarded by allusion to the well-known 
habit and practice of thieves of covering 
up their tracks. 

Beyond doubt, had Mr. Hartland and 
the cashier been left undisturbed to wind 
up the affairs of the bank, they would have 
done this in a way quite satisfactory to them- 
selves, if not to the bank’s creditors. But 
they were not left to be their own assignees 
in insolvency. The State bank examiner 
now appeared on the scene, and, with the 
proverbial hind-sight watchfulness of looking 
closely to the security of the stable door 
after the horse is stolen, began a thorough 
overhauling of the bank’s affairs. 

He had not pushed his investigations very 

470 


Mr, Hartland Takes a Change of Venue 

far before he uncovered a state of financial 
rottenness that made him fairly hold his 
official nose. It was not merely that there 
was a mass of worthless paper carried on 
the books of the bank as assets — a thing 
common enough with very respectable banks 
— but there were fictitious notes, false entries, 
strange balance-producing credits and debits, 
and other financial jugglery that Mr. Hart- 
land had used to cover his heavy and illegal 
withdrawals of cash. In short, with the 
connivance of his complaisant cashier, he 
had fairly looted the bank. Always making 
a practice of using the bank as a base of 
supplies when he needed money, he had, 
within the past few months, practically emp- 
tied its coffers to meet his own and the mill 
company’s necessities. 

The Nemesis that was so persistently pur- 
suing Mr. Hartland now gave him the final 
and crushing blow. The bank examiner not 
only applied to the court for a receiver for 
the bank, but he laid the ugly facts of Mr. 
Hartland’s peculations before the State’s 
Attorney. 

Mr. Hartland being already publicly dis- 
credited by the suspension of the bank, the 
State’s Attorney did not hesitate to start 

471 


A Captain of Industry 

the legal criminal machinery of the State to 
moving against him. Upon complaint filed 
charging embezzlement, a warrant was issued 
for Mr. Hartland’s arrest and placed in the 
hands of the sheriff for service. 

The sheriff, taking with him two trusty 
deputies, went at once to Mr. Hartland’s 
house to make the arrest. 

Mr. Hartland himself answered the sheriff’s 
summons at the door, and conducted him 
and his deputies into the library. 

A sadly changed man was Mr. Hartland. 
His face was line-marked, worry-worn and 
haggard. His thin gray hair was in a state 
of dishevelment, and dark rings about his 
lusterless eyes told of troubled and sleepless 
nights. There was a noticeable listlessness, 
too, in his manner, which is often seen in 
men whose spirit has been completely broken. 

The sheriff, with some embarrassment, ex- 
plained his mission and produced the warrant. 

Mr. Hartland took the paper, gave it a 
careless inspection and handed it back to 
the sheriff. 

“Yes, yes,” he said, looking out of the 
window absently. “Very well — ^just be 
seated. I want to step upstairs — I’ll be 
with you in a few minutes,” 

472 


Mr, Hartland Takes a Change of Venue 

An uneasy quarter of an hour the sheriff 
and his deputies waited for Mr. Hartland’s 
return. 

“I wonder what he’s doing. I guess we’d 
better” 

What it was that the sheriff thought they 
had better do, the deputies were left to 
conjecture, for just then the crack of a pistol 
resounded through the house, cutting his 
sentence short. 

The sheriff and his deputies looked at one 
another in startled apprehension. 

Hurried steps and confused voices were 
now heard upstairs. 

Hastily ascending the stairs, the oflficers 
came upon two of the house servants standing 
with blanched faces before a closed door. 

“This is Mr. Hartland’s room, sir,” said 
one of the servants to the sheriff, excitedly. 
“We’re afraid he’s done something to him- 
self — ^he’s seemed so worried-like of late.” 

“Where is Mrs. Hartland asked the 
sheriff, gravely. 

“She’s gone, sir. Mr. George took her 
away yesterday.” 

Tne sheriff now tried the door. It was 
locked. 

“Mr. Hartland!” he called. 

473 


A Captain of Industry 

There was no response. 

The sheriff made a sign to his deputies. 
Putting their combined weight strongly against 
the door they forced the lock, and the door 
crashed open. 

There he lay on the floor. Blood was 
flowing from a wound in his right temple, 
and his right hand was still clutching the 
revolver that he had evidently turned against 
himself. On a near-by table was a letter 
addressed to his wife, apparently just written. 

Summoned to answer charges in an earthly 
court, Mr. Hartland had taken a change of 
venue to a higher one. 

Let that Court judge him. 

Has he, indeed, and such as he, not already 
been judged through the mouth of one of 
the inspired prophets of old ? 

“He that getteth riches, and not by right, 
shall leave them in the midst of his days, and 
at his end shall be a fool.” 


474 



There he lay on the floor. 






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CHAPTER XXXVI 
Edith’s Letter and its Answer 

How was it faring now with Mr. Middleton ? 
Why, not so well — not so very well. Does 
it ever fare quite well with a man who, not 
yet within hailing distance of his grand 
climacteric, is, from any cause, deprived 
of the work that has engaged his maturer 
years.? Nature seems intent upon keeping 
her children busy, for she visits them with 
severe penalties when they are not. She lets 
us play during the years of physical growth — 
insists, indeed, that we shall play; for here, 
too, she has her penalties in stunted physical, 
mental and moral development for the poor 
unfortunates whom heartless greed or cruel 
necessity robs of their kindergarten rights. 
In our declining years, also, we may not only 
have dignity with ease, but physical comfort 
as well. But, oh! in the years of our man- 
hood and womanhood — when we have entered 
as heirs upon life’s great inheritance — ^then 
must we be up and doing; and if we are not. 
Dame Nature will not be slow to manifest 

475 


A Captain of Industry 

her displeasure with us. 

We commiserate — and rightly — the many 
who toil long hours for a scant subsistence. 
But let us reserve our greatest commiseration 
for the man who has nothing to do. A 
purgatory overwork may well be, but idleness 
IS a veritable inferno. 

So Mr. Middleton found it, at any rate, 
after years of close and unremitting applica- 
tion to the business of the Ellerton steel 
company. His business day was now a very 
short one, being limited to the brief hour 
or two that he spent at the Citizens’ Bank 
in the morning, giving attention to the not 
very pressing matters connected with his 
investments. After his quarrel with Mr. 
Hartland he had transferred his account 
from the Commercial Bank to the Citizens’ 
Bank; and the officials of the latter institu- 
tion were more than willing to let such a 
valuable customer use the bank as his business 
headquarters. 

The short time that he spent at the bank, 
however, made but slight demand upon Mr. 
Middleton’s capacity for work. Besides — 
and this was perhaps the worst feature about 
his present oversupply of leisure — ^he had 
now plenty of time to think of Philip; and 

476 


Edith* s Letter and its Answer 

thoughts of his son were continually obtruding 
themselves upon him. While busy with the 
mill work Philip’s absence was less poignantly 
felt. It was possible even to forget him 
amid the engrossing duties of the oflSce. 
But with these duties laid aside, memories of 
his son thronged upon him with a harrowing 
persistency. 

And yet, sorrow-laden though these memo- 
ries were, Mr. Middleton cared not to dispel 
them. For all bitterness of feeling toward 
Philip had disappeared; there remained only 
a father’s yearning for the love and affection 
of a lost son. More than once he had taken 
out the will by which he had disinherited 
Philip, with the thought of destroying it. 
But a deep-seated sense of justice restrained 
him. 

“No, no! Something is due to me. He 
must come back — he must come back.” 

This was always his concluding thought; 
and he would put the will away again. 

But as time passed, Mr. Middleton assumed 
more and more the appearance of a man 
who was in a fair way to having his will 
probated at no distant day. He lost appetite 
and flesh. Hollows appeared in his cheeks, 
and his eyes took on a sunken look. An 

477 


A Captain of Industry 

unconquerable depression, too, settled upon 
his spirits, which had its complement in a 
general impairment of vitality. 

Then one morning he failed to put in his 
usual appearance at the bank. Nor was 
he there the following day, or the day after 
that. 

Now the doctor’s buggy is seen at the 
house on the hill. Once, twice, then three 
times every day the doctor calls ; and he 
looks grave as he issues from the house and 
drives away. He has been unable to diagnose 
the case from a pathological standpoint. 
He suspects, however, the main underlying 
cause of Mr. Middleton’s illness. But this 
underlying cause cannot be reached by any- 
thing in his pharmacopoeia. 

Edith Middleton, too, thinks she knows 
what the seat of her father’s trouble is, and 
the direction in which the potent remedy is 
to be sought. And the growing seriousness 
of his condition determines her to secure 
that remedy, if possible. 

Taking no one into her confidence, she 
sits down and writes a letter. With her own 
hand she puts the letter into the letter-box, 
and then anxiously awaits an answer. 

Three days later as the afternoon train 
478 


Edith^s Letter and its Answer 


from St. Louis came puffing into Ellerton, 
and while it was yet a good quarter of a mile 
from the station, a young man encumbered 
with nothing heavier than a hand-bag was 
seen to leap from the moving train at the 
imminent risk of a broken leg, right himself 
from the forward thrust of the train’s momen- 
tum, and then with quick steps take a ’cross- 
lot short-cut for an evidently well-defined 
objective point. 

What this objective point is he soon makes 
clear; for now, with no slackening of pace, 
he begins the ascent of the hill leading to 
Ellerton’s most palatial abode. As he nears 
the house he stops, and, putting his thumb 
and forefinger to his mouth, he gives a familiar 
whistle. 

What is that now that comes tearing 
around the house and bears down upon the 
young man with the speed of the wind, as if 
to devour him.^^ 

Ah! Prince, it is a long time since you 
heard that whistle, isn’t it? Long have you 
waited to hear it. Often have you pricked 
up your ears in eager expectancy only to 
disconsolately droop them again. No need 
to ask or to wonder if you are glad to see 
this young man who drops his hand-bag 

479 


A Captain of Industry 


to receive your canine greeting. For just 
look at you now! Up and up you jump, 
as high as his head and higher. You cut 
circles around him, rushing madly and with 
yelps of rapturous delight. Again, you are 
up and down and all over him, hardly giving 
him a chance to touch you. Finally, having 
given vent to the exuberance of your joy, 
you submit to the bear’s hug that he gives 
you, and he hears that peculiar sound in 
your throat as if you are trying to tell him 
how much you have missed him and how 
overjoyed you are to see him again. Now 
he releases you and starts for the house, 
you. Prince, rushing on ahead, and then 
pack to him, and forward and back, yelping 
out your joy the while in quick, sharp, ear- 
piercing barks. 

“What is Prince barking so for, Edith 
asks Mr. Middleton, feebly. 

Edith has heard, and has seen, too, from 
the window. By a severe tax upon her 
power of restraint, she represses an exclama- 
tion. By not so great a tax upon her regard 
for strict truth, she says : 

“I don’t know, papa. I’ll run down and 
see.” 

Before our young friend below has a 


480 


Edith’s Letter and its Answer 


chance to ring, the door swings open and 
Edith’s arms are about his neck. 

Prince barks his entire approval of Edith’s 
cordial greeting. Good-mannered dog that 
he is, he restrains his desire to follow the 
two into the house. But he does plant 
himself down at the foot of the steps as if 
he had fully made up his mind not to let 
the aforesaid young man get away again. 

Mrs. Middleton appears in the hall. Is 
there a little of consternation mixed with her 
surprise at seeing Philip ? 

Philip does not notice it, but kisses her 
dutifully. Then to Edith: 

“How is father I must see him right 
away.” 

They go upstairs. Edith, prevailing upon 
Philip to remain outside the door, enters the 
room. 

“Papa, some one has come to see you.” 

Mr. Middleton cannot mistake the signif- 
icance of his daughter’s flushed and joy- 
beaming face. 

“Phil!” he cries, sitting bolt upright in 
the bed. 

Yes, it’s Phil, sure enough. For now, 
impatient of further restraint, he bursts into 
the room. The sight of his father’s pale 

481 


A Captain of Industry 

and emaciated face strikes him to the heart. 
Has he been the cause of this? Falling 
upon his knees at the bedside and burying 
his face in his hands upon the bed, he cries 
in a sob-choked voice: 

“Father, you told me not to come back 
until I was ready to come on my knees for 
your forgiveness. You see me now upon 
my knees. Forgive me for running away 
in the way that I did, and for not sending 
you one kind word in all this time. I was 
stubborn. I was unkind. Forgive me, fa- 
ther, and give me your blessing.” 

Tears came to Mr. Middleton’s eyes — 
tears of joy. His hands caressed Philip’s 
head lovingly. 

“My dear boy. Take a father’s blessing 
as you once almost had his curse. I guess 
I was a little inconsiderate, too, at the time. 
I hope you’ll forgive me, Phil, as freely as I 
forgive you.” 

Gently he raised Philip’s head, and their 
lips met in a kiss of reconciliation. 

Oh, the kiss of father and son! What is 
like or akin unto it? Not, certainly, the 
light and careless kiss of friendship; nor that 
of brother and sister, or of wife or sweetheart. 
Nor is it like a mother’s loving kiss, which, 

482 


Edith's Letter and its Answer 

indeed, has something holy in it. No; dif- 
ferent from all of these it is. Deep, virile and 
vital, it reaches down and takes hold of the 
veiw roots of being! 

Gently Philip released himself from the 
embrace in which they had for some moments 
held each other. 

“You must lie down now, father, and 
rest.” 

“Not yet, Phil. I’m half-way up now, 
and I guess lil get all the way up. There’s 
something I must attend to at once. I may 
not be able to do it later. Edith — my dressing- 
gown and slippers.” 

“Oh, papa, you mustn’t!” said Edith, 
alarmed. “You’re not strong enough yet. 
Let us do it for you.” 

“No,” said Mr. Middleton insistently. “ It’s 
something I must do myself. Come, Edith 
dear — gown and slippers.” 

Edith, wondering what it was that was 
so urgent, and with some misgivings as to 
the effect of the unusual exertion upon her 
father, brought the dressing-gown and slippers, 
and, with Philip’s assistance, helped him into 
them. 

Supported by the two, Mr. Middleton 
started for his study. Reaching the secretary 

483 


A Captain of Industry 

he opened a drawer and with trembling 
hand drew out two red-ribboned and red- 
sealed documents. Glancing at the indorse- 
ments he dropped one back into the drawer, 
and with the other clutched in his hand 
started back to his bedroom and made for 
the fireplace where a bright, coal fire was 
burning. Sinking into a chair in front of it, 
he opened the document to be assured that 
he had the right one. Turning over the 
pages his eye finally rested upon a familiar 
paragraph. 

“ One dollar — one dollar,’’ he muttered. 
“Yes, this is it.” 

“Phil,” he said, turning to Philip with 
just the suggestion of a twinkle in his eye, 
“this is my will, that I made just after you 
left me. It leaves you the sum of one dollar. 
But I have come to the conclusion that you 
may have need of a little larger working 
capitaPthan that, and so — ” 

With that he threw the paper into the fire 
and silently watched it flare up into flame 
and die down into a shrivelled mass of paper 
ash. This he dispersed with a few vicious 
punches of the poker. 

“There — that’s done,” he said, breathing 
a sigh of relief, “Now I guess I’d better 

484 



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Edith's Letter and its Answer 


get back into bed.” 

“Why, papa,” said Edith with a laugh, 
and kissing him, “I should have been glad 
to do that for you.” 

“Oh, I know that, my dear, even though 
it cuts a big hole in your inheritance; but 
I wanted the satisfaction of doing it myself.” 

“We’re none of us going to get anything 
through your will, father — not for a long 
time to come,” said Philip cheerily, as he put 
his arm about him and assisted him to rise. 

“No, indeed, we’re not,” affirmed Edith, 
supporting her father from the opposite side. 

“ I don’t want to go now,” said Mr. Middle- 
ton, with moist eyes and putting his arms 
affectionately around them both, “for I have 
my heaven on earth.” 

An hour later when the doctor called, Mr. 
Middleton was sleeping peacefully. The doc- 
tor greeted Philip warmly, for they were 
friends. Then stepping to the bedside he 
looked into the face of the sleeper. His 
quick, professional eye at once detected a 
favorable change. To assure himself he put 
his ear upon Mr. Middleton’s breast over 
the region of his heart, and then felt and 
timed his pulse. Dropping the hand upon 
the coverlet, he turned to Edith and Philip 

485 


A Captain of Industry 

who were eagerly awaiting his report. 

“Your father is out of danger, my dears,” 
he said with a smile. “I’ll stake my pro- 
fessional reputation, now, that he gets well. 
You’re the tonic that he needed, Phil,” giving 
Philip a cordial slap on the back. 

Edith kissed Philip, and then, in her joy 
could not refrain from kissing the doctor also. 

“Oh, ho!” he chuckled. “That’s a fee 
I didn’t expect. But it’s all right. I promise 
you I won’t tell a certain lawyer in town that 
I know.” 

Whereat Edith flushed, and Philip looked 
at her narrowly. 

“Aha! What’s this you’ve been up to, 
little sister, since I’ve been gone?” 

“None of your business, Mr. Inquisitive,” 
retorted Edith. “Nothing worse, anyway, 
than you’ve been up to in St. Louis, I’ll 
warrant.” 

“ Sh !” said Philip, beating a retreat. “ We’ll 
wake father.” 

But Mr. Middleton would not have been 
easily awakened. He was sleeping the deep 
and restful sleep of convalescence, sleep that 
brings tone to flagging nerve and tissue, and 
rallies all the dormant forces in life’s citadel. 

He slept soundly without a break through 

486 


Edith*s Letter and its Answer 


the night, and awoke the next morning re- 
freshed and — ^hungry. He dispatched with 
relish a couple of soft-boiled eggs, a plate 
of toast and a cup of coffee. And afterwards 
he called for a cigar and the morning paper! 


487 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


An Industrial Revival 

Mr. Middleton’s convalescence was rapid. 
The third day after Philip’s return he was 
sitting up. Happy days were these — these 
days of convalescence. Philip was with his 
father constantly. His father could not bear 
to have him out of his sight, seeming to be 
nourished and to thrive upon his mere silent 
presence in the room. 

Yet much they talked about; for much, 
indeed, they had to talk about. Philip was 
eager to hear about all that had happened 
during his absence, and his father still more 
eager to listen to Philip’s recital of his experi- 
ences in his battle with the world on his own 
account. 

As Mr. Middleton grew stronger, they 
began to plan for the future. For no more 
were they to be separated, these two. Philip 
must run back to St. Louis — but no hurry 
about his going, his father insists — close up 
his affairs there, hurry back home — and 
about his hurrying back his father is still 

488 


An Industrial Revival 


more insistent — and then — well, it is the 
then that they enthusiastically talk about 
and plan for. 

In due time, therefore, and when Mr. 
Middleton is quite himself again, Philip 
does return to St. Louis and close up his 
affairs — all but one. This one affair he 
shows a strange disinclination to have closed, 
leaving it, indeed, in such an unfinished state 
that repeated short trips to St. Louis to attend 
to it will be necessary in the future. The 
unfinished stage in which Philip leaves this 
affair seems, however, to be entirely satis- 
factory to the other parties — or party — to it. 

Upon Philip’s return from St. Louis after 
winding up his business there, he and his 
father set about in earnest to put into execu- 
tion their much talked-of plans. Mr. Cos- 
grove was a frequent party to their conferences. 
It may not be difficult to guess, therefore, 
what the subject of these conferences was. 

Yes, the task they set before themselves 
to acconmlish was the rehabilitation of the 
Ellerton Iron & Steel Works. 

As a first step in this direction, they bought 
from Mr. Hartland’s administrator all the 
steel company stock that he held as adminis- 
trator of Mr. Hartland’s estate. This com- 

489 


A Captain of Industry 

prised the bulk of the company’s stock. 
Steel stock, as may be imagined, was not 
a particularly choice asset at this time, and 
the administrator was very glad to dispose 
of the estate’s holdings to Mr. Middleton 
and his associates at the price they offered; 
a price (in the administrator’s opinion) far 
in excess of the real value of the stock. 

The next step was to get the receiver who 
had been appointed for the company, dis- 
charged. This was no difficult matter. The 
principal creditors, on learning that Mr. 
Middleton had bought up most of the stock 
with a view to restoring the shattered fortunes 
of the company, readily consented to the dis- 
charge of the receiver, and to restoring the 
management of the company to its stock- 
holders. 

The receiver discharged, the company was 
now reorganized, with Mr. Middleton as 
president, Philip, vice-president, and Mr. 
Cosgrove, secretary and treasurer. 

Then began the work of rebuilding and 
equipping the mills. Mr. Middleton’s con- 
fidence in the future was shown by the fact 
that the projected plans for the new mills 
were upon no meager scale, but contemplated 
an even greater plant than the company had 

490 


An Industrial Revival 


before. He had some reason for his con- 
fidence, however, in the many reassuring 
letters he received from old customers of the 
company, and in the further fact that the 
black cloud of panic and depression that for 
more than two years past had hung like a 
pall over the business world was lifting, 
promising fairer and more prosperous days. 

Certainly the reorganization of the mill 
company, with Mr. Middleton again at its 
head, and the rebuilding of the mills infused 
new life into business generally in Ellerton. 
For this revival of the city’s chief industry 
meant again a busy army of clerks and work- 
men, money, and consequently increased trade 
in all lines of business. 

Naturally enough, the old stockholders of 
the company were elated over the resuscita- 
tion of the company, and the prospect of 
future dividends on their stock. Mr. Munson 
drew his two-share certificate from the pigeon- 
hole of his desk into which he had some 
months ago carelessly thrust it, blew off the 
accumulated dust, and, after looking it over 
with rising pride of possession and ownership, 
carefully put it away in his safe. He again 
assumed the importance of proprietorship in 
the mills and began to talk pompously about 

491 


A Captain of Industry 

what “we” were going to do when the mills 
were rebuilt and made ready for business. 
But whatever damage he may have caused 
the company in thus advertising his con- 
nection with it he probably more than made 
good by the two-column space he gave in 
the Argus to a “write-up” on the reorganized 
company, which Philip furnished him. 

It is needless to say that the former mill 
workmen were glad to see the walls of the 
mills rising again. The strike had been quite 
as disastrous to them as it had been to the 
company. Many of them had been out of 
work ever since the strike; and even those 
who managed to secure employment found 
it usually intermittent and unremunerative. 
Most of the workmen under the Hartland 
regime had drifted away from Ellerton after 
the destruction of the mills. Many of the 
strikers had likewise left the city to seek 
work elsewhere. Those who remained were 
fain to support themselves and their families 
as best they could from the avails of odd 
jobs, when they were fortunate enough to 
get them, from their slender savings, and from 
the still more slender allowances made to 
them by the union from its benefit fund. 

Thanks to Mr. Middleton’s friendship, it 

492 


An Industrial Revival 


had not gone so hard with John Waters and 
Tom Ten wick. After their triumphant ac- 
quittal on the trial for alleged complicity 
in the Gilks conspiracy, Mr. Middleton had 
advanced to Waters enough money to pur- 
chase a three-acre tract of land which lay 
adjacent to his (Waters’s) home lot. This 
patch of ground Waters had dug up and 
planted with small fruits and vegetables, 
taking Tenwick in with him on shares. From 
the proceeds of this market-garden they were 
supporting themselves comfortably. For be- 
sides the cash receipts from their sales they 
supplied their own tables with fresh fruit 
and vegetables. 

The venture might not, indeed, have proved 
very profitable had Tom been permitted to 
huckster the produce. Waters allowed him 
to do this in the beginning of their marketing, 
but after several trials was compelled, in the 
interest of a prudent management of the 
business, to attend to this part of it himself. 
Tom would start out in the morning with 
horse and cart, the cart well loaded with 
garden stuff, and Tom sufficiently instructed, 
too, as to quantities and prices ; but he would 
invariably return in the afternoon, with all 
the produce disposed of, it is true, but with 

493 


A Captain of Industry 

an awful disparity between the morning’s 
invoice and his cash receipts. Tom’s all 
too generous nature was not proof against 
the many cases of destitution that he en- 
countered in his rounds. He gave away 
more than he sold; and even where he made 
sales his prices were always sufficiently flexible 
to meet the slender purses of his indigent 
customers. Waters, while not blind to cases 
of need, was more prudent and discriminating 
in his charities; enough so, at any rate, to 
keep the business from being crippled by 
reason of them. To gratify Tom, however, 
he allowed him to be the almoner of the firm, 
under his supervision. But even this was 
not without some peril to the business; for 
the extent of Tom’s information as to the 
urgent cases of need in the city was surprising. 

Waters and Ten wick both joined heartily 
in a liberal thank-offering to the poor on the 
day they heard of Philip’s return. They 
were among the first of his friends that he 
went to see, and none gave him a heartier 
or more heartfelt greeting. 

John Waters had devoted a good portion 
of his leisure time to thinking out improve- 
ments on his mill runway. A number of 
betterments had, in the course of time, sug- 
494 


An Industrial Revival 


gested themselves. With these in view — 
making, as he believed, his contrivance more 
convenient and practicable — he was riot greatly 
disappointed over Philip’s report that, owing 
principally to the prevailing industrial depres- 
sion, he had not been able to interest mill 
owners in the invention sufficiently to get 
them to have the runway installed and tested. 

With Philip’s assistance. Waters made ap- 
plication for patents on his improvements, 
and, now, with the assurance from both 
Philip and Mr. Middleton that the invention 
would be given a practical test, he anxiously 
awaited the reopening of the mills. 

But while Mr. Middleton was thus willing 
to experiment in the matter of the mill equip- 
ment, he took no chances when it came 
to the selection of a superintendent. He 
early put himself in communication with 
former Superintendent Mitchell, and it was 
with the greatest satisfaction that he finallv 
closed a contract with that experienced mill 
man to again take the supermtendency of 
the mills. 

In due time the office and mill buildings 
were completed, and the mills, under Superin- 
tendent Mitchell’s skilful supervision, prop- 
equipped and efficiently manned, fFphn 

49,5 


A Captain of Industry 

Waters was made “Boss Roller,” with Ten- 
wick as his chief lieutenant at the rolls. 

The company already had enough orders 
on hand to work the mills to their full capacity 
for some time to come. Mr. Elridge, on 
learning of the reorganization of the company 
with Mr. Middleton and Philip in control, 
sent in a large order on behalf of his road, 
with his personal congratulations and assur- 
ances of future business. 

And so again, night and day, the mill 
chimneys belched their smoke and flame, 
and in and about the mills recurred the 
hum and din of their manifold activities. 
A new life sprang forth from the ruins of 
the old, and all the unhappy and tragic 
memories of the past, like the figments of a 
horrid dream, were dispelled with the dawn 
of the new day. 


496 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


Conclusion 

In the nature of things, of course, there is, 
and can be, no absolute conclusion to any- 
thing. In all things upon this great round 
globe of ours, and in the limitless universe 
of which it is an infinitesimal part, there is 
unceasing movement and change, but con- 
clusion never. Finis is but a fiction, finality 
only a relative term. Ebb and flow there is, 
and cycle upon cycle, but the end is always 
not yet. Eternity is writ large upon the 
face of nature, and in the innermost soul 
of humanity is indelibly stamped the seal 
of the everlasting. On and on, and forever, 
beats the great heart of Being, its strong and 
measured pulsations unchecked by Noachian 
flood or any other direful cataclysm. With 
the creative fiat of the great First Cause 
was coaled the binding and irrevocable 
decree : Esto perpetua. 

So, in the lives of individuals and of nations, 
in forces, movements and events, there is, 
in reality, neither beginning nor ending. 

497 


A Captain of Industry 

The thing which is, is bone and flesh of that 
which has been and of that which is to be. 
All things are knit together in a universal 
oneness and unity by a continuous and 
unending thread. 

Nevertheless, in mundane affairs, it is 
with no dubious meaning that we speak 
of a beginning and an end. Relative terms 
though these be, we make convenient use of 
them. For practical purposes there certainly 
is a beginning and an end, an inception and 
a conclusion, a first and a last. 

Not to go further afield — ^this narrative 
undoubtedly had a beginning, and it must 
needs have an ending. To make that ending, 
it is hoped, an acceptable one, there must 
be another hiatus in the annals of this tale. 

Six years have passed since the reopening 
of the Ellerton mills under the management 
of the reorganized company. The confidence 
of the creditors of the company in Mr. Middle- 
ton had been fully justified. Every dollar 
of indebtedness of the company was paid, 
even the heavy indebtedness to the Com- 
mercial Bank, and the receiver of the bank 
was thereby enabled to pay a very substantial 
dividend on the claims against the bank. 

The business of the mill company had, 

498 


Conclusion 


indeed, prospered beyond the most sanguine 
expectations of its officers. Besides the 
natural effect of the general revival of busi- 
ness, the output of the Ellerton Iron & Steel 
Works had come to be regarded in the iron 
and steel world as of standard quality, and 
the company’s imprint as a sufficient guaranty 
of high-class work. More than this, Mr. 
Elridge was not now alone in believing that 
good luck would attend the traffic over the 
Ellerton company rails. For the working 
conditions in the mills and the relations 
between the company and its employees had 
become as well advertised as the mill output. 

Instead of a night and day shift in the 
mills, of twelve hours each, there were now 
three shifts of eight hours each. And the 
contents of the pay envelopes were quite as 
large as under the old order. For — and here 
was now the unique thing in the manage- 
ment of the Ellerton mills — the company 
had taken its workmen into its entire con- 
fidence. That is to say, the business was 
treated as a joint enterprise. A statement 
was made by the company at the beginning 
of each year to the workers’ union as repre- 
senting the workmen. This statement was 
in the nature of a balance-sheet, showing 

499 


A Captain of Industry 

the business done and profits made by the 
company during the year past. Whenever 
these profits were large enough to warrant 
an increase in dividends, there was a propor- 
tionate increase in the wages of the workmen 
who had been on the payrolls during the 
time covered by the statement. 

Besides the pecuniary advantage to the 
workmen from this sliding scale of wages — 
which owing to the steadily increasing busi- 
ness and profits of the company had been a 
constantly ascending one — another like ad- 
vantage was always open to them in the 
opportunity afforded them by the company 
to buy its stock. Any workman who so 
desired could have a portion of his wages 
retained by the company, and when the 
sums retained aggregated one hundred dollars, 
a full-paid and non-assessable share of the 
company’s stock was issued to him, upon 
which he drew his regular dividends as a 
stockholder. 

Many of the workmen — nearly all of the 
older workmen, in fact — had availed them- 
selves of this opportunity to take stock; and 
this steady increase of stock-holding among 
the workmen had drawn them into closer 
and closer sympathy with the company by 

500 


Conclusion 


the bond of a common interest, and had 
given to the mill business more and more 
the character of a co-operative enterprise. 

The workmen still have their union; and 
it is larger and stronger than ever. But it 
is no longer upon a belligerent footing. Its 
purposes are largely social and recreative. 
There is little discussion upon the subject 
of wages, but much upon ways and means 
for making the work in the mills more pro- 
ductive and efficient. 

Philip Middleton is a frequent attendant 
upon the meetings of the union, entering 
freely into its discussions and finding always 
an attentive and appreciative audience for 
his suggestions and counsel. 

He still, too, much to Tom Tenwick’s 
delight, comes into the mills occasionally and 
takes a turn at the rolls, giving himself, as 
he says, a little vacation, as well as the work- 
man whom he relieves. 

Tom Tenwick is now “Boss Roller.” To 
fit the dignity of this position he appears at 
the union meetings in a new frock coat; 
and it is needless to say that he is more than 
ever careful of his coat-tails. 

Tom has made a further addition to his 
wardrobe in the shape of a pair of cuffs, 
501 


A Captain of Industry 

whose pronounced tendency to put them- 
selves very much in evidence he will no doubt 
in time learn to successfully restrain. 

John Waters has been advanced to the 
position of assistant superintendent of the 
mills. His patented runway, with the few 
further changes that the practical test of it 
showed to be expedient, has proved a success, 
and has entirely displaced the old and cum- 
bersome “buggy’’ method of transferring 
the bars from the furnaces to the rolls. Not 
only is it exclusively used in the Ellerton 
mills, but the “Waters Telegraph,” as it 
is called, is coming into general use in steel 
mills throughout the country. The company 
bought the patent from Waters, and the 
runway is now one item in the company’s 
output. When an order is received for one 
of the runways Waters is sent by the company 
to install it and initiate the mill men into its 
use. 

The runway, however, is likely to be 
eclipsed by a further invention that for two 
years past Waters has been working on. 
This is no less a thing than a new puddling- 
furnace. If finally perfected it will mark 
a new departure in the process of puddling, 
and entirely revolutionize that important 

502 


Conclusion 


branch of rolling-mill work. 

What with his salary as assistant mill 
superintendent, the liberal royalties paid him 
by the company on the sales of his runway, 
his mill stock — of which he owns a good- 
sized block — and above all, the returns likely 
to be realized on his puddling-furnace. Waters 
is in a fair way to become a rich man. Pros- 
perity has not spoiled him, however. He 
IS the same plain, unassuming, unpretentious, 
honest John Waters that he was before he 
had a bank account. For Waters goes far 
back of all the material blessings that have 
come to him to find the one red-letter day 
in his life’s calendar: back to the day when 
Philip Middleton came and took his place 
at the rolls. That is, and will always remain 
his day of days, sacredly and secretly en- 
shrined in his own heart, its abiding influence 
finding outward manifestation only in the 
simplicity and singleness of his life, in the 
many acts of kindness done, and the sympathy 
and encouragement he has given to those 
less fortunately placed than himself, which 
have made him loved and respected by every 
man in the mills. 

In less than a year after Philip Middleton 
returned home from St, Louis, he plucked 
503 


A Captain of Industry 

up courage enough to close up the unfinished 

E iece of business that he had left behind 
im. Miss Katherine Elridge is now Mrs. 
Philip Middleton. She did not, however, 
at once cease applying the lesson Philip had 
taught her. During the first year of their 
married life she was a frequent visitor at the 
offices of the mill company, where she put 
the business knowledge she had gained in 
St. Louis to good use in relieving first one 
and then another of the young lady type- 
writers employed there. And she will allow 
it to be in no derogation of the value and 
significance of this kind of work that in 
later years she has confined herself to the 
three fields of activity, “ kirche, kinder ^ kuche’^ 
which fulfil the German housewife’s concep- 
tion of a woman’s sphere. 

Not a great while after Philip’s marriage 
there was a quiet wedding at the house on 
the hill. As illustrating how our ambitions 
and purposes are sometimes realized in ways 
not at all of our own seeking, Mrs. Middleton, 
who, with the lofty ambitions for herself 
and daughter heretofore noted, strenuously 
opposed her daughter’s alliance with an 
obscure small-town lawyer, has since had 
abundant reason for gratulation that Edith 
504 


Conclusion 


followed her own heart in the selection of a 
husband. For Elisha Langdon has not only 
forged to the front in his profession — one of 
the leading law firms in the State is that 
of Willard, Flitwood & Langdon — but high 
political honors have come to him as wdl. 
Attending the last congressional convention 
of his party as a delegate he quite captivated 
the convention with his speech seconding 
the nomination of one of the leading candi- 
dates; and the factions, getting into a dead- 
lock on the leaders, compromised on Langdon, 
and with a great hurrah nominated him as 
the congressional standard-bearer of the party. 
He was triumphantly elected; and not long 
after he had taken his seat in Congress he 
made a most telling speech on a subject of 
general interest at the time — a speech that 
attracted the attention of the entire country 
by its statesmanlike breadth of view, and 
the reported immediate effect of its delivery 
upon the House. The speech gave Langdon 
a commanding position in Congress and 
marked him as a coming man in the councils 
of the nation. 

Mrs. Middleton visited her daughter in 
Washington at a time when the social season 
was at its height, and had the great pleasure 
505 


A Captain of Industry 

of meeting the President and numerous other 
dignitaries at the nation’s cagitol. And so, 
she has been made happy. Her ambitions 
are realized. It is with a satisfied pride that 
she now speaks of Congressman Langdon, 
her “daughter’s husband.” 

Well, who will be so ungracious as to 
curl the lip at a woman’s vanity.^ More 
often than not she is the better for its gratifica- 
tion. Gratified vanity tends to make people 
more amiable. Thwarted ambition only adds 
to the number of misanthropes. Varied, 
indeed, are the ambitions of men and women 
— as varied as human kind. Some of them 
seem trivial, commonplace, sometimes even 
unworthy. But their realization is the flower- 
ing forth of the individual life, to be followed 
in due time by the ripened fruitage after its 
kind. 

Note this: that Mrs. Middleton’s enter- 
tainments and receptions are on a grander 
scale than ever. Nor is she loath even to 
join her husband and Philip and his wife 
m now and then throwing open the great 
house on the hill to a reception for the mill 
workmen. 

Oh, fear not, ye fastidious! Be assured 
that the men come to these receptions in 

506 


Conclusion 


their best bib and tucker — ^Tom Tenwick 
is not the only one with a frock coat — and 
they are clean of hand and face and body. 

Neither let it be matter for surprise that 
a woman of Mrs. Middleton’s social prej- 
udices and predilections should condescend 
to come into such close touch with the prole- 
tariat. A sufficiently adequate motive may 
be found in the fact that the workmen all 
had votes, and the tenure of office of Con- 
gressman Langdon, her daughter’s husband, 
depended upon the electorate of his district. 

Be this as it may, Mrs. Middleton con- 
ducted herself at these democratic gatherings 
with rare tact and amiability, not only making 
votes for Langdon, but insuring a warm 
place in the hearts of the mill men for the 
great lady in the house on the hill. 

Time has dealt gently with Mr. Middleton. 
It has touched his hair with a becoming 
gray, but has left his face unmarked with 
the lines that tell of the passing years. Hale 
and hearty, he does his work with joy, and 
with bright eye and hopeful heart looks out 
into the future undismayed. Grandchildren 
have come to add strengthening bands to the 
ties of parental affection, and their merry 
prattle is the cheering promise to his ear of 

507 


A Captain of Industry 

a perpetuated name and lineage. In all 
things pertaining to the management of the 
mills he is at one with Philip. When any 
important matter touching the business or 
management of the mills is broached to him, 
it is beautiful to see the glow that will come 
into his face as he says: “You see my son 
about this,” or: “I’ll talk this matter over 
with my son, and we’ll see what we can do 
about it.” 

When Langdon and his wife are home 
from Washington they are, of course, frequent 
visitors at the house on the hill. On these 
occasions Mr. Middleton will leave Edith 
with her mother and take Langdon off with 
him to the library. Here, comfortably en- 
sconced in his large leather arm-chair and 
with the solace of a fragrant Havana, he 
delights to draw Langdon into a discussion 
of any subject that offers an inviting field 
for diversity of opinion and debate. He 
finds Langdon not quite so ingenuous and 
academic m argument as on that first night 
of intellectual battle with him — for Langdon 
has been some time now in Congress — but 
just as strong in his convictions and with 
ideals as high. When Mr. Middleton has 
finished his cigar Langdon, who has not yet 

508 


Conclmion 


learned to smoke, leads the way across the hall 
into the drawing-room where his solace will 
be awaiting him. He throws himself with 
easy self-possession into a chair near the 
piano and looks toward his wife. With a 
smile of understanding, Mrs. Langdon seats 
herself at the piano and plays Chopin’s 
“Twelfth Nocturne,” her interpretation of 
which has been deepened and broadened by 
the richer experiences of life that have come 
to her. When she has finished playing she 
seeks her husband’s face with never-failing 
confidence to read there anew what she read 
when she played the piece for him the first 
time. And her firm trust that she will 
always read there the same world-old story 
is her most priceless possession and the 
source of an abiding joy. 


The End. 


509 


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